Jinchu
by texgal
Summary: They say that the past cannot haunt you unless you let it. Sometimes the past disagrees.
1. Prologue

Prologue

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea. This is a sequel to my story "Panther of Legends". It will not make a whole lot of sense if you haven't read that and the one-shot "Death and the Messenger" first._

* * *

The Battousai is happy.

He watches, hidden, as the man who slew his sister goes about his daily business, a _katana_ still strapped to one hip as though the monster still has a right to go about slaughtering innocent people. He watches as the Battousai interacts with the tall young man with the odd hair and the symbol for 'wicked' on the back of his jacket; or with the young girl with the great sapphire eyes that sparkle in the sun; or with the little boy with a big mouth and a wooden stick he carries everywhere. He is baffled - horrified - that the three innocents are not afraid of the monster next to them. Surely they know who the man is? Surely they know what he is capable of doing on the slightest whim? And yet there is no fear in the three, no fear of the monster they allow into their lives. There is only acceptance, and love.

Fools.

The Battousai is a monster, litte more than a rabid animal. He is a cold-blooded killer of the highest class; he is a butcher of men and women alike. He has torn apart the watcher's life, taken away the one person the watcher ever loved with the deadly blade that the monster still wears, the blade that should be buried in the monster's heart. The Battousai does not deserve acceptance or love or happiness. The Battousai deserves only death, and pain, and the agonizing sorrow of knowing that he has lost everything that he holds dear. And the watcher will give him what he deserves.

And _she_ will be the tool by which the Battousai is broken.

The watcher follows the woman with his cold eyes, calculating as the woman smacks the tall man on the back with a fist; calculating as she dodges the retalitory swipe with laughter ringing from her lips. He observes the ease with which she moves, in spite of the katana strapped across her back. His eyes burn with an unholy anger and rage as the Battousai sweeps the woman into his arms and kisses her on the cheek, despite the woman's vocal protests. How dare that monster force himself upon another woman? How dare he find happiness in his life, when the watcher has only found pain and loneliness?

The watcher closes his eyes in anger, sees the beloved face smiling lovingly at him. A smirk twists his face, the anger drains away, and when the watcher opens his eyes he is once again in control of his emotions. He goes back to studying the woman.

She is older than the watcher, older than the tall man and the blue-eyed girl and the little boy. She looks to be of an age with the Battousai. She is of the same height as the murderer; her jet black hair falls in a long tail to her backside, blending in perfectly with her black clothing. It is late spring, the air is hot, and yet the woman wears all black. She wears a _gi_ and _hakama_, rather than the appropriate female attire of a kimono. The watcher tries to study her face, but her back is turned to his position as she speaks to the murderous bastard who forced her moments earlier to accept his kiss.

His spies have brought him stories of this woman. They say that she is a killer that surpasses even the Battousai in her kill-count. They say that she is thouht to be dead by the Meiji government, assassinated near the end of the Bakumatsu by one of her own companions. They tell the watcher that the woman disappeared for a decade, only to return to the world of the living in the city of Tokyo, reunitied with her old partner Battousai by the tall young man by chance. Her name is unknown, but her alias - Zetsumei Kurohyou - is familiar to the watcher, a remembered name from those days so long ago, when he worked with the Shogunate for the sake of his beloved sister. This woman had been famous, even then, for her ruthlessness and the merciless way in which she killed as one of the _hitokiri_ of the Ishin Shishi.

She had also been famous as the one and only friend of the Battousai.

She is the key. She is the tool by which the watcher will destroy the Battousai. He will take her from that monster, take her far away from him, and then sit back to watch as the grief tears the Battousai appart. He doesn't care what happens to the woman afterwards. Only the Battousai matters.

Only his revenge matters.

Jinchu will be done upon the bastard who killed his sister.

The man closes his eyes again, sees that much loved face.

"Soon sister," he promises. "Soon."

And Enishi Yukishiro walks away.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

__________

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea

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* * *

_

Midori sat on the edge of the porch, leaning sideways against a support beam, and gazed upwards at the stars that filled the night sky.

It was extremely late. All other patrons of the Kamiya Dojo were sleeping soundly in their futons, no doubt dreaming the happy and mundane dreams of those who are content with their lives. Midori could feel the tiredness from a long day pressing down on her life a physical weight as her body demanded sleep. And yet she ignored the call of her own futon; sleep would not come to her tonight. So instead she sat there on the porch, her eyes on the heavens and her mind free to wander as it wished.

Midori didn't know how long she had sat there idly before she felt a presence at her back. She smiled faintly, though the person could not see it owing to his position, and patted the space beside her in an invitation to sit. Her companion did so, reaching out to take her hand in his and holding it as they pursued the night sky together in silence.

After a time, Midori's previously quiet companion spoke.

"Are you alright?"

Midori eyed Kenshin Himura, her oldest friend and the owner of her heart. She had learned long ago that when he asked a question such as the one he had just posed, it was usually a lead-up into more questions. If she said yes, he would ask why she was sitting out on the porch at this ungodly hour. If she said no, he would ask what was the matter. Midori had long since figured out that the best answer to his question was silence.

This night, however, she decided to humor him. She wished to know his thoughts on what was bothering her.

"Have you felt in the last few days that something is...off?" She spoke quietly, not wanting to awaken their sleeping friends. Midori had had quite enough encounters with a cranky Kaoru Kamiya when Midori's midnight wanderings woke the petite owner of the Kamiya dojo; even mostly asleep, Kaoru had deadly accurate aim with her favored _bokkens_.

Kenshin was watching her closely, a gleam of question in his lavender eyes. "What do you mean? Off? What has been off?"

Midori shrugged turning her attention back to the skies. It was apparent by his reaction that Kenshin had not noticed anything amiss, or there would be no need for him to question her. The prickling sense that had plagued Midori for near a week was seemingly apparent only to her.

"I've just felt...weird this week," she tried to explain, shrugging again as though it were unimportant. No need for Kenshin to become concerned and start poking around. He had a habit of being uncouthly annoying when concerned.

Kenshin did not pry this time, instead moving to lay his head in her lap and closing his eyes with a sigh. Midori absent-mindedly ran her fingers through his glorious red hair, staring off into space as her mind wandered once again.

It had been peaceful, this last year of staying here with him at the Kamiya Dojo. It was a longer period of time than Midori had spent anywhere else since her near-death experiance at the end of the Bakumatsu eleven years before. And yet, since her return to Kenshin after the fiasco in Kyoto the previous spring, Midori had found herself settling in a life other than her nomadic existance surprisingly quickly. She still carried her _katana_ with her when she left the dojo; she still escaped to the river for time alone; she still lost sleep from nightmares and spent many nights on the porch. But, for the most part, she had settled; and she was happy. For the first time in her life, she had friends that accepted her; she had a home again; and Kenshin was with her. She felt complete in a way that eluded her for over a decade.

It had been rough, at first. Midori had grown accustomed to her solitude during her life on the road. It had taken time - and many days of staying nearly exclusively hidden at the river she used as a refuge - for her to become comfortable being constantly around people. It had taken longer for her to become confident enough to risk using Kaoru's bathhouse, when anyone could accidentally walk in and see her - see her scarred and battered body, see the marks that she would carry with her for the rest of her life, the marks that her long-dead comrades had given her in their jealousy of her fame among their enemies. Quiet, empty streets at night still caused the fine hairs on Midori's neck to rise in warning. The smells of a city still burned her nose at times. Doctors - even Megumi-san, her friend and physician this past year - still made her uneasy.

But there were the good parts of her new life, the good parts that kept her tethered to this dojo when all she felt like doing was bolting for the quiet and solitude of the open countryside. There were the mornings that she awoke to the smell of smoke, and knew instantly that Kaoru had again tried her hand at cooking and set something in the kitchen afire. There was Sanosuke and his smile, the priceless look on his face the first time Midori beat him soundly at a game of dice or drank him under the table. There was little Yahiko, growing in his skills as a swordsman as he mastered move after move in the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu and constantly pestered both Midori and Kenshin to spar with him.

And then there was Kenshin.

The days spent in his company after a decade apart. The nights spent in his arms, or in her own room safe in the knowledge that his was right next to hers. The smell of ginger that now clung to her at all times. The vibrant colors of his hair, eyes, and that ridiculous _gi_ he now wore. His supportive presence when she felt too alone, or his respectful distance when she needed space. The sound of his voice, his laugh, her name as he growled playfully at her when they sparred. The grace with which he moved. The love that he felt for her, which he expressed a thousand times a day in a thousand different ways.

Kenshin Himura. The Battousai. He was the chain that would forever keep her heart caged where he was. If he wished to stay in Tokyo, then that was where Midori would grow old. If he wished to wander again, then Midori would follow after him until her body was dust.

And should anyone come against him, or their friends, then may the gods have mercy on that person; Midori would not hesitate to slay them.

She looked down at Kenshin's head in her lap, smiling slightly as their eyes met. His were the gold-flecked indigo that she was so fond of, the color that only she was allowed to see. They held a question in their depths as Kenshin gazed up at her. He was asking with his eyes what he had refrained from asking with his voice: _what was bothering her_?

Midori looked away for a moment, wondering how best to answer him now that it was apparent that he truly was concerned. How did she explain the sensation that had plagued her for nigh on a week, and how to do so in a way that Kenshin would understand? She did not fully understand what was causing this unease; how was she to tell Kenshin without confounding them both?

"I can't explain it fully," she whispered, stroking his glorious hair as she pondered what words to use. "I have felt...In the Bakumatsu, when I was followed or was following a target, I would know if there were eyes on me. I would feel it; in my stomach, the upsurg of adrenaline, when the hairs at the nape of my neck stood on end. My body would give me these warnings, and I would know that I was being watched. Do you know the feelings that I'm speaking of?"

"Yes." His answer did not surprise her; Kenshin had been a killer, a _hitokiri_, just like Midori during the Bakumatsu. It would have shocked her more if he had professed to be ignorant of such feelings; such ignorance would have gotten him killed in those blood-soaked days.

"That's what I've been feeling, off and on, for the past week. Like someone has been observing me, and I can't find the person before the feelings fade. It vexes me."

She didn't tell him that she was more worried for him and their friends than she was for herself. Such cavalier disregard for her own safety would upset him.

"Where do you experiance these sensations?" Kenshin asked, extracting her hand from his hair and sitting up. He kept hold of her hand, his thumb sweeping repeatedly over her knuckles as he faced her fully; his other hand he placed on her knee, where it also stroked repeatedly.

"In the market, on the streets of the city, here in the dojo when the gates are open during the day." She conveniately forgot to mention the river, where she had felt watched almost constantly during her daily walks. That would sit no better with Kenshin than her feeling about her own safety.

"And you have not told me before now?" He kept most of the reproach out of his voice, but there was enough present to have Midori sending him a look.

"If I can't find the sourse of my unease, why should I worry you over something that could be nothing?"

"Or it could be important. You might be in danger."

A snort let Kenshin know exactly what Midori thought of that.

They sat in silence for a time, he gazing at her reproachfully and she looking back with a carefully blank expression.

"You cannot locate the source?" Kenshin asked quietly, scooting closer to her and slipping an arm around her waist.

"No."

"And this feeling of being observed happens often?"

"Some days often; some days only occassionally."

Kenshin sighed; Midori repressed the grin threatening. She knew that her short and unhelpful answers were annoying him, but as she had already told him, she didn't know how to explain why the sensations she had experianced were bothering her so much. They weren't constant, or consistant, and no one had out-and-out attacked her yet; it might truly be nothing. Perhaps Midori was just being paranoid.

"Stop stressing, _ninjin_," she quipped as she elbowed Kenshin in the side, using her nickname for him in an effort to placate him. She stood and held a hand out to help Kenshin to his feet. "If anything comes of it, we will deal with the problem. We are Battousai and Zetsumei Kurohyou, after all; who would be stupid enough to come against the two of us?"

And she led him back into the dojo, ready to spend what remained of the night taking his mind off of his new worries.

* * *

"_Okami_? Can I help you?"

Midori refocused on the tofu vendor, smiling apologetically.

"_Gomennasai_," she mumbled, digging in her _gi's_ sleeve for her heavy coin purse. "My head is in the clouds today, it seems. I need to puchase a bucket of tofu, if you please."

"At once, _okami_."

"_Arigato_."

Midori moved away with her bucket of tofu a moment later, her mind already on the tingling sensation spreading up and down her spine. She dodged nimbly through the crowded market, one hand on the bucket's handle and one on the cord that tied her _katana_ firmly across her back. She could have it unsheated and bared in an instant should the need arise.

She was growing tired of this, she mused as she made her way back to the Kamiya dojo. Midori had to fight the urge to look around her, now that she was out of the market crowd, on the off chance that she might spot her second shadow. She wanted to know who the hell was following her. She wanted to put an end to this little game she'd been stuck in for the past two weeks now. Instead she gritted her teeth and kept walking, head facing forward even as her eyes darted from side to side.

She would speak to Kenshin again when she made it back home. They had not talked of this issue since that night on the porch a week past, but Kenshin had been following her nearly everywhere since, not giving her a moment's peace even when she had attempted to flee to the river. This morning she had put her foot down and demanded that he allow her to go to the market for the tofu alone. He was babying her, she had told him angrily, and Midori had never responded well to being babied. The insuing argument had left Midori weezing and sent her to the floor as the stress aggravated her heart, which still suffered the occassional bout of weakness due to the wound inflicted upon it by the now-deceased Makoto Shishio. Kenshin had fussed over her, apologizing for stressing her and bowing to her demands for alone time in exchange for her promise to take her time and try not to overexert herself.

He was such a mother hen. His enemies from the Bakumatsu would have fits to see him now, fussing over her in such a maternal way.

The gates of the Kamiya dojo were in sight before Midori realized that she could actually hear the footsteps behind her.

She stopped, stooped to set the tofu on the ground. The footsteps had not stopped when she did, and where steadily approaching her. Midori quickly straightened, drawing her _katana_ even as she swung around to face -

Megumi-san. A very surprised and frightened Megumi-san, by the look on her face. Midori flushed crimson.

"_Gomennasai_, Megumi-san," she called to the frozen doctor, quickly resheathing her _katana_ and holding her empty hands out to her sides. "You startled me, that is all. What may I help you with this evening?"

"Oh - well -" Megumi acted as flustered as she looked, shifting the familiar black bag she carried from one hand to the other, using her free hand to smooth her already immaculate hair. Midori felt like a complete ass for scaring her so badly.

"Come, Megumi-san. Kenshin and I are about to prepare dinner. Will you join us?" Midori bent to pick up the tofu as she spoke, looking away from the doctor so as to give her time to collect herself. Midori gestured with her free hand as she straightened, motioning to the dojo. "Please, join us. We had plenty of food."

"_Arigato_, Midori-san." The doctor sounded much better, her familiar air of sophistication present now in her voice. Midori smiled to herself as they walked the rest of the way to the dojo. It would be immensely entertaining to watch the doctor and Sanosuke banter with each other over the meal. In the past year, it had become increasingly obvious that there was something between her two friends. She had enjoyed putting the two in situations where they were alone and leaving them to 'bond'. She would be unsurprised if the two eventually wound up at the nearby temple. Until then, she would enjoy messing with them and watching them try to outsmart one another.

The two women had walked through the gates, chatting lightly, before the flash of white from the corner of her eye caught Midori's attention. She stopped abruptly, Megumi passing her by unaware, and turned to find the source of that white.

There was a piece of paper with a large black symbol nailed to the gates of the dojo. The symbol read 'Jinchu'.

Puzzled at the meaning of the word - roughly translated it meant 'man's justice' - Midori reached out and tore the paper free of the nail. She examined the symbol, wondering what it was meant to convey and who it was for. 'Man's justice.' What did that mean?

"_Kabu_?"

Kenshin was walking towards her, looking questioningly from the paper in her hands to Midori's face. His eyes flickered over her shoulder, widened at what he saw -

And a dagger dug into Midori's shoulder, sending her staggering forward with the force the blow.

Midori dove for cover behind the outer walls, reaching up and feeling for the hilt of the dagger as she crouched in the courtyard. Her fingers closed around it, and she pulled, yanking it free from it's place in her shoulder and throwing it aside before reaching up for her _katana_. Kenshin was beside her before the blade was out of her shoulder, his own _sakabatou_ bare in his hand.

"_Kabu_, are you alright?"

"Yes, it just dug into my shoulder. Where is he?"

"In the street."

"Leave him to me. I owe him a scratch."

At a nod from Kenshin, Midori sprang up to stand on the outer wall, facing her oppenent for the first time. They stared at each other, she holding her blade and he with what seemed to be a crossbow strapped to one wrist. It had been a crossbow bolt Midori had pulled from her shoulder, not a dagger as she had originally thought.

This was an odd looking man indeed. He wore a weird version of a woman's kimono, and Midori could swear he was wearing lip-color as the women of Tokyo were wont to do when dressed up for a fancy night. He was grinning at her in a manner that reminded her forcefully of a certain bandage-clad, fire-loving dead man.

"That hurt," Midori called to him, keeping her perch atop the wall.

"Ooh, I'm so-o sorry," the man cooed, sashaying closer in a decidedly feminine move. "The poor lady's gotten soft in the last few years has she? Well, we'll just have to remember that, now won't we? Can't have nasty men going around hurting a defenseless woman, now can we?" His voice, high-pitched to the point of painful, grated on Midori's nerves.

"You might want to remember that I will not hesitate to hurt you back," Midori growled, dropping down to stand in the street in front of him. "I dislike being bled."

"Oh, you do, eh? But I so love the taste of a woman's blood!" He pouted at her in a manner that would have been mildly cute on a small child. On him it looked ridiculous.

"What do you want here?" Midori lowered herself into a defensive position as the man raised his left arm, atop which the crossbow waited, already reloaded with a total of five barbed bolts.

"Oh, nothing much, nothing much. I just want to PLAY! Will you play with me, Zetsumei Kurohyou? WILL YOU PLAY WITH ME?"

The bolts shot towards her. Midori leapt into the air, flipping over the bolts and landing at a run facing the strange man. She darted towards him, intending to swipe the crossbow from his arm. He leapt back before her blow connected, retreating to the roof of a nearby building.

"Tsk, tsk, we can't play right now, Zetsumei Kurohyou. My master will want me soon. I just wanted to say hello, leave my mark, oh, and tell you that that paper you were so rude as to remove from where I put it was for the Battousai, not for you. So be a good little girl and give it to him, alright? Can tou-chan count on you for that?"

"Come down here, _baka yaro_, and see what I can be counted on to do," Midori replied, his taunts pissing her off. "Or are you such a coward as to strike only when my back is turned?"

The man laughed, leaping away from her across the rooftops.

"Oh, I'm no coward, Zetumei Kurohyou. I just like to play!"

And in an instant he was gone.

Midori turned back and leapt again to the top of the outer wall. She saw that all off her friends were standing in the courtyard, and by the looks on their faces they had heard her little conversation. She jumped down and motioned for the doctor.

"I was struck in the shoulder," she explained as she removed her empty sheath from across her back and began walking towards the porch. "A crossbow bolt. Who was that man?

This last she addressed to Kenshin, who was hovering at her side in concern. His brow furrowed, and his eyes sought hers in confusion.

"You did not know him, _kabu_?"

"I've never seen him before. Have you?"

His brow furrowed further. "No."

Midori plopped down on the edge of the porch as Megumi quickly moved behind her. She resheathed her _katana_, setting it to the side even as she cast her eyes around the courtyard until she spotted a sheet of white paper fluttering against a portion of the outer wall.

"Kenshin, that paper over by the - _ow_. **_OW_**. Megumi-san, what are you doing?" It felt like the doctor was ripping her muscles out through her skin. She eyed Megumi over one shoulder, seeing that her friend was staring at her wound with a look of intense concentration.

"There is something still lodged under the skin, Midori-san," Megumi explained as she moved away to retrieve her bag. "Kaoru-chan, fetch water for me, please; and some clean bandages. Yahiko-chan, can you try to find the shaft of the crossbow bolt? Don't move, Midori-san. I will have to dig whatever that is out of your shoulder."

Sanosuke, who was standing in front of Midori next to Kenshin, winced in sympathy. "That's going to hurt."

"Kenshin, go get that paper over there," Midori instructed, gesturing towards the fluttering white sheet with the hand on her uninjured side. "That man said it was for you. It was nailed to the gate when I returned from the market with my..."

Here Midori's voice trailed off, as her eyes zeroed in on the upturned bucket that had contained her tofu, which would now be ruined.

"_Shit_."

* * *

Later that evening, when Midori's shoulder had been patched up and the mess of bloody bandages thrown away, the six companions sat around the porch and attempted to make sense of the events of the day.

"He must have followed me home from the market," Midori mused, tugging on her long black bangs in frustration at the thought of her perfectly good tofu thrown to the ground. "I thought someone was behind me, but when I scared Megumi-san I assumed that it must have been her. Perhaps I was mistaken."

"But who _was_ he?" Yahiko whined, standing with his feet braced apart and his arms crossed over his chest; a fierce scowl adorned his young face. "Has anybody ever seen him before? It's not like a freak like that would be hard to remember."

All heads present shook from side to side, and Yahiko stamped his feet in irritation.

"But why the hell would some random guy attack us! It doesn't make any sense!"

"He knew Kenshin was the Battousai," Sanosuke pointed out from where he lay sprawled across the boards of the porch, a fishbone procured from unknown sources swinging from one side of his mouth to the other. "And he called Midori 'Zetsumei Kurohyou'. How many people know about you, Midori?"

"Not many." Midori gripped her sheathed weapon tightly in her hands, twisting her grip one way and then the other and listening to the leather squeak in protest. "You five; the Oniwabanshu in Kyoto; a few of the Kyoto police force, perhaps. Everyone else who would have known me as Zetsumei Kurohyou on site believe me to be dead."

That had been bothering Midori all afternoon: how in the gods' names did that man know her title? Everyone thought that Zetsumei Kurohyou was killed by the Battousai near the end of the Bakumatsu, and Midori had done nothing to broadcast the fact that she yet lived. How had that man known her?

"That man from earlier said that this was for me, did he not, _kabu_?" Kenshin, sitting next to her, held up the paper with 'Jinchu' written on it. Midori nodded.

"He said it was for you."

"But I have never met that man, that I can remember," Kenshin mumured, seeming to think out loud as he stared at the paper. "And what is Jinchu? I have never heard the term. Man's justice?"

"Whoever that man was, he was dangerous," Megumi-san stated, folding her hands delicately in her lap from her seat; Kaoru, sitting next to the doctor, nodded in agreement. "That bolt he shot at you was designed to leave the barb in a person's body once it was pulled out. If you had been shot elsewhere, or if I had not been here to pull it out, it could have poisoned your blood after a few days. It could have killed you."

But why? _I just like to play._...But why attempt to _play_ with two of the most dangerous survivors of the Bakumatsu? Why engage them, wound Midori, and then retreat immediately afterwards if the bastard had truly wanted to 'play'?

_My master will want me soon_.

"He has a master," Midori blurted suddenly, interrupting Sanosuke as he began to speak. "When he retreated, that man, he said that his master would want him soon. Maybe someone sent him here? Someone one of us might know from somewhere? Kenshin and I both have enemies, and he said that paper was for Kenshin and that he wanted to mark me. Perhaps he is just a pawn?"

Kenshin looked troubled by the thought. "But who is his master?" He tapped the symbol on the paper. "And what does this mean for us?"

"I don't know."

_And that is the worst of it_, Midori thought as the others pondered on this newest mystery.

_The worst part is not knowing who your real enemy actually is_.

___

* * *

_

"You have delivered the message?"

"Yes, Master. The message was delivered, the woman marked, just as you ordered."

"Good. Leave me."

The servant bowed and departed, leaving the master alone in the dimly lit room.

It had begun. He would claim justice against the Battousai. He would avenge his sister. The man closed his eyes, pleased to see her smiling at him; that smile that would be his goal forever.

He would destroy the Battousai, and his sister would never cease to smile upon him again.

* * *

A/N: Review please.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea_

* * *

His sister was there, smiling at him again.

"I'm working for it, sister. I know you have waited for so long already. I'm trying to hurry."

Enishi walked unimpeded through the streets of Tokyo, following at a substantial distance behind the Battousai and the woman Zetsumei Kurohyou. The woman had been too jumpy for him to safely watch without being seen if he followed too closely. He had allowed them to pull far ahead of him as they walked. As he followed, he studied the woman.

She was the key - the tool to the Battousai's downfall. He would crumble without her to wallow in the misery he so richly deserved. She was what brightened the Battousai's life, what had pulled him from sorrow after her return from Kyoto a year previous. To destroy him, as he had destroyed Enishi, the woman would need to be removed from his life again.

His pawns were in place. Enishi broke away from the crowded streets and made his way out of the city. He would wait for the next pawn to come to him, as Gein had arranged. He cast a last glance behind him, caught a glimpse of the burning hair and the watchful green eyes.

The Battousai and his woman disappeared into the muddle of people, and a cruel grin twisted the corners of Enishi's mouth as he too vanished.

"Soon, sister, I will have vengance for your death. I promise.

"Just hold on a little longer, Tomoe."

* * *

Midori sat quietly in front of the stand of trees outside of Tokyo in which Kenshin 'trained.' She had no idea what he was doing or why he was insisting on dragging her everywhere he went this week, but he had asked that she wait for him here. She would wait.

She stared ahead of her, thinking of the past week. It had been seven days since the incident with the strangely dressed man at the dojo. The wound to the back of her shoulder was mending, but the paranoia of Kenshin was starting to grate on her nerves. She had been allowed to go nowhere on her own, followed around constantly by Kenshin. Midori knew that Sanosuke was likewise shadowing Kaoru, Yahiko, and Megumi; the knowlegde did little to sooth her pride. She was Zetsumei Kurohyou, for kami's sake; she did not require a guard.

Any such comments to Kenshin were met by willfully deaf ears. She had tried to corner Sanosuke and bully the fist-fighter into intervening on her behalf, but her friend was skillfull at avoiding her.

Her annoyance rising with her thoughts of her situation, Midori flung herself back to lie in the grass, on arm flung over her face to shield her eyes from the warm spring sun. Kenshin needed to hurry up. They had been here for over an hour already, and they were supposed to be meeting their friends at the Akabeko in a few more hours. Kenshin had said that he had other things to do once he was finished here, so if he didn't hurry up they would probably be late. Sanosuke would not be happy with that outcome; he had pleaded and wheedled poor Tae at the restaraunt for month to get her to close up early so they could have the place to themselves for an 'anniversary' party. Midori cringed at the mere thought.

Sanosuke had known that today was the one-year anniversary of the day he, Kenshin, Kaoru, Yahiko, and Megumi had returned to Tokyo from Kyoto after the fiasco with Shishio, and he had decided that they needed to have a party to celebrate.

Midori wasn't the only one who wasn't looking forward to this party; which was exactly why Kenshin had run off with her in tow this morning. Considering he had thought her dead on this day a year ago, and she had lain unconscious and much too close to death for comfort, neither of them felt much like celebrating this day's anniversary.

From the road nearby, there came the sound of a high-pitched humming, accompanied by the sound of footsteps and the swishing of a kimono. Someone was walking towards them.

Midori sat up just as the new arrival spotted her and let out a gasp of surprise. It was the young waitress from the Akabeko, Tsubame. She carried a bucket of some sort over one shoulder, and at the moment her usually pale cheeks were beet-red.

"M-M-Midori-san," the girl stuttered out as Midori came to her feet and dusted herself off. She smiled at the girl's shyness; even after a year's acquaintance, Tsubame was still shy and timid as ever around Midori.

"Hello, Tsubame-chan," Midori replied, keeping her smile and motioning for the girl to come closer. Tsubame did so, the color slowly fading from her cheeks as she fairly crept forward, her eyes lowered demurely to the ground. "What are you doing way out here on this beautiful day? Are you not working at the Akebeko today?"

"Um...w-well, I-I -"

"Tsubame-dono?" The voice came up behind Midori as the girl tried to begin speaking; Kenshin emerged from his clump of trees, the smile he generally had plastered like a mask on his face visible for the girl's benefit. Midori felt the usual stab of humor at his habit of adressing all females aside from her as dono, be they older or younger. It was a title that absolutely annoyed the hell out of Kaoru, but so far no amouts of threats or begging had managed to get the title dropped.

Kenshin walked past her to meet Tsubame, politely taking the bucket from her and placing his free hand on her thin shoulder. The color flooded Tsubame's cheeks so fast it was comical; Midori had to bite her tongue to hide the grin threatening.

"Where are you going? May we walk with you?" Kenshin spoke gently to her, well accostomed to the young girl's shyness and adept at putting her at ease.

"Um...I'm just...going to the fields..." Tsubame murmured, plucking at the sleeves of her kimono as she stared fixedly at the ground before her feet.

"We will walk aways with you, then," Kenshin declared with a reassuring smile, gently using his hold on Tsubame's shoulder to propel her forward. Midori waited until they had passed her before falling into step on the other side of the girl; Tsubame glanced up shyly, only to giggle when Midori winked at her.

"Why are you going to the fields?" Midori asked, not out of any true interest but wanting to start a conversation. She liked Tsubame, even if she did still seem to terrify the girl at times.

"I am...going to look after the soy beans." Tsubame alternated between watching her feet and glancing not-so-covertly at Midori. "If they are not properly tended...we won't have a very good harvest."

"I see. Perhaps we should track down Yahiko-chan and ask him to help you." Midori grinned as Tsubame once again flamed red, trying not to laugh at the girl's embarrassment. It was well known amoung their group of friends that Yahiko and Tsubame were unofficial sweethearts. Tsubame was too shy to be comfortable talking about such a thing, and Yahiko's giant pride was often a target to Sanosuke's teasing remarks about what Tsubame could possibly see in such a little brat.

She smiled kindly at Tsubame, allowing her to cast about for a change of subject; the girl quickly asked Kenshin what it was that he had been doing.

"Well, it's not really something you could strictly call training. I was just exercising strict control of my _ki_ so my body doesn't get rusty."

Midori glanced sideways at Kenshin over the top of the girl's head. She had often heard of him refer to sensing this _ki_ in others, including herself, but Midori did not understand exactly what he was talking about. How could a person control this _ki_ that resided in their bodies? What was this _ki_? She had meant to ask him this for some time, but as Tsubame nodded in apparent understanding of these words Midori held her tongue. She had no desire to ask a stupid question unless she and Kenshin were alone.

When Kenshin began trying to explain to Tsubame about his moodswings or the things a swordsman was connected with that sometimes pulled on their soul, Midori tuned him out. She had felt those pulls, those longings for a fight or a chance to spill the blood of her enemies. Hearing her own feelings put into words by this being that was anchoring her to one place when she would otherwise be elsewhere was slightly disconcerting. Did Kenshin know that she felt the pulling he spoke of in her own soul?

She hoped that the answer was no.

After a time, the trio came to a fork in the road, and Tsubame declared that this was where they split. She took her basket back from Kenshin, thanking him.

"Please remember, everyone's coming to the Akabeko at five today," she reminded them.

"The celebration," Midori prompted at the confused look on Kenshin's face. His brow furrowed.

"They were serious about that?" he grumbled, looking about as pleased to have such a party as Midori felt. "What is there to celebrate? It was a year ago, anyway."

"Sanosuke-san said that we should!" Tsubame exclaimed, clearly much more exicted at the prospects of a party than her two companions were. "He said that we should have as much fun as we want!"

"Sanosuke just wants a free meal and an excuse to get drunk," Midori whispered to Kenshin, drawing a laugh from him.

"I wish I could learn to think like that."

"Kami save Japan if there were two in it who though exactly like Sanosuke."

The three shared a laugh, and then Midori removed the basket from Tsubame's hands and slung it over her own shoulder.

"Go about your mysterious business, Kenshin," she called over her shoulder as she herded the confused Tsubame in front of her down the road. "I will accompany Tsubame-chan to the fields. We will see you at five, and don't be late!"

She hustled away before Kenshin had a chance to stop her. Midori loved Kenshin, truly she did; but sometimes his company was a little much. She'd been stuck with him for a solid week; it was time to make a break for it.

She spent the next few hours in the soy bean fields with Tsubame, helping the girl tend the crops and chatting lightly with her. The labor was not hard for Midori, and the distinct lack of a certain male presence was almost soothing to her. It was a good afternoon.

When Tsubame declared her work to be finished for the day, Midori followed her out of the fields and back into town. They went first to the dojo, thinking to meet the others there and walk together to the Akabeko; they were slightly disappointed to find the dojo already empty. After two quick washes in the bathhouse, the pair made their way alone to the restaraunt, where they were greeted by what sounded greatly like caterwauling.

"WHERE ARE THOSE TWO BAKA'S! IT"S ALREADY 4:30! THEY'RE LATE!"

Midori entered the restaraunt behind Tsubame to find Sanosuke, Kaoru, and Yahiko already waiting with Tae. Sanosuke was seated atop a table with one leg dangling freely and the other tapping impatiently on the seat of a chair. He looked up as they entered, only for his face to cloud an instant later.

"Hey! Why isn't Kenshin with you, Midori?" He hopped off of the table and jammed his hands in his pockets, the ever-present fishbone wagging around in his mouth. "I thought you two were together. He said you'd be with him today, since that freak hasn't shown up again and Kenshin's paranoid."

"We were together," Midori acknowledged as she bowed politely to Tae and moved to sit across from Kaoru. "We split earlier and I have spent the last few hours assisting Tsubame-chan in the soy bean fields. He knows to be here and has been warned against lateness. He said he had things to do today."

"Why wasn't Kenshin-san with you today?" Tae asked Kaoru, her kind voice twanging as it was wont to do.

"Oh, I had lessons at another dojo," Kaoru explained with a smile. "I came straight here from there."

Everyone but Midori jumped in surprise as easy-going Tae suddenly stamped her foot in irritation.

"You can't keep doing this, Kaoru-chan!" Tae exclaimed, her twang even more pronounced. Kaoru cowered slightly in her seat as Tae advanced on her.

"Kenjutsu's important and all, but it just isn't proper for a girl your age!" Tae fairly ranted, waving a hand through the air and coming close to clipping Midori. This was to be a rehash of the same argument she had with both Midori and Kaoru on a near weekly basis. Midori tuned her out; Kaoru got defensive. The others watched like spectators at a sumo contest.

"How long are you going to go around covered in sweat? If you think that just because you live with two older men that it means that you can be careless, you are greatly mistaken! Kaoru-chan - and you too, Midori-san - if you would just look after yourself a little more, wear kimono's instead of men's apparel, wear a little make-up - "

Midori snorted in derision at the thought of wearing make-up.

"That's enough! I'm fine!" Kaoru blurted, standing up so that Tae was forced to step back and then positioning her face close to that of the hostess. "Maybe you should be worrying about yourself. Tae-san, you're turning twenty-something this year!"

Midori quickly schooled her face to impassiveness before she could burst out laughing as Tae froze where she stood and Tsubame stuttered in her defense. Kaoru always did have the habit of hitting below the belt.

The door to the restaraunt began to slide open, drawing all of their attention as Yahiko called out, "Hey, you made it!"

But when the door fully opened the man before them was most assuredly not Kenshin.

For one thing, this man was _enormous_. Not simply large; large did not begin to describe the stranger's size. He was enormous. His head was in danger of hitting the sealing as he stood slouched in the doorway, watching them all through squinted eyes. His body fairly bulged with muscles from his giant feet to his beefy neck. One monstrous hand was curled into a loose, non-threatening fist.

The other arm ended rather abruptly at the wrist. The stub was wrapped to the elbow in bandages.

Tae quickly spun from where she had previously been frozen, advancing on the stranger with all the purpose of a conquering army.

"Welcome, sir!" she greeted, perhaps a touch more enthusiastically than usual. "What can I do for you?"

When the stranger opened his mouth and spoke, his voice caused the muscles on Midori's neck and shoulders to stiffen. It was akin to hearing rocks grind together.

"The cheapest meal that you offer," he growled softly as he made his way to the farthest booth in the restaraunt. As Tae hurried away to fill his order, Midori watched the stranger. He filled the booth at which he sat, stretching very nearly from end to end. He said nothing to any of them; it was as though he was alone in the Akabeko. Midori tried to relax, telling herself that he was just a large man, that it was no business of hers who he was or what had happened to his hand. Her efforts were in vain; the muscles in her neck and shoulders stayed stiff. Something about this stranger set her on edge.

Tae came back shortly, carrying a tray of food. As she passed by Yahiko, the boy caught hold of her sleeve, stopping her.

"Isn't that the salmon meal?" he asked quietly, eyes darting from the tray to the strange man. "I thought the barely was the cheapest."

"It's alright," Tae replied cheerfully, pulling her sleeve free of his grasp and starting again towards her customer. "I'll charge him the same as the barely."

Midori was up and standing in front of the hostess before she had taken another step. She shook her head even as Sanosuke murmured, "Don't."

"If you're doing that because you feel sorry for him, then stop." Sanosuke looked not at Tae, but at the quiet stranger in his booth, his head turned away from them even though Midori was sure he could hear them.

Tae looked confused. "But -"

"Sympathy will be mistaken for scorn or for pity," Midori interrupted in a low voice. "It would be an insult to him. Give him the barely meal, as he asked. Do not insult him with your shallow sympathy."

Tae puffed up until she resembled an exotic blowfish Midori had once seen at a sea port market.

"That's not it at all!" she exclaimed. "It's because of people like him, soldiers who fought in the Boshin Wars or the Bakumatsu, that we have peace today. The least I can do is show my thanks and appreciation to his sacrifice!"

Instead of waiting for Midori to step aside, Tae stepped around her and approached the stranger's table. Midori watched them uneasily, fingering the strap that held her sheathed _katana_ in place across her back. If the stranger took offense and was angered, Midori would step between the petite hostess and that enormous man. She waited nervously to see what would happen.

Nothing happened. The man accepted the food quietly, thanking Tae and calling her ojou-san. Tae bowed and came back to them, looking positively gleeful at being adressed as ojou-san; it must have been because of Kaoru's earily comment about Tae's age. Midori slowly took her hand away from her _katana's_ strap.

She watched the man carefully as her friends sat and talked, waiting for Kenshin to arrive so that they could being this 'celebration.' He ate his food without a word, not acknowledging their presense or her rudeness in staring. When he was finished, he stood and made for the door, having left money for the meal on his table.

"Oh, are you leaving?" Tae approached the hulking man with a tray in hand. "I was just bringing your tea."

"The sign posted outside says that you are closing at five," the stranger replied; the hair on the back of Midori's neck stood at attention at the sound of his voice again. "I don't wish to be in your way."

Once again the door slid open, only this time it actually was Kenshin. Midori's eyes flickered from the stranger to Kenshin, narrowing at the look of shock on her friend's face. Slowly, the big man turned and regarded Kenshin out of his narrowed eyes, seeming to fill the doorway with the bulk of his body as the two men stared at one another.

Midori's hand crept again to the strap of her sheath.

In the next moment, the big man had eased past Kenshin and was in the streets, walking unhurriedly away from them as Kenshin stared after him. Midori walked up and put a hand on Kenshin's shoulder, also watching the man retreat.

"You know that man?" she asked in a quiet voice. She felt Kenshin startle beneath her hand; he had not been aware of her presence, so fixed was his attention on the retreating figure.

He looked at her, and the color of his eyes stilled her blood for a moment before they cleared to the usual lavender.

For a moment, they had been amber.

* * *

The 'celebration' was a success, Midori supposed later that night, as the group plopped along the road in the dark. Yahiko, at least, had succeeded in becoming quite drunk, and was now being carried on Sanosuke's back, caroling at the top of his voice. Kenshin, on the other hand, walked beside her with a closed face, his eyes far away.

After a few streets, the group came upon a patch of the road that strayed close to the river, which was swarming with fireflies. The other girls went off to enjoy the sight as Sanosuke unceremoniously dumped Yahiko in the dirt and Midori took Kenshin's hand. Gently she pulled him to sit on the side of the road with her, her thumb stroking his knuckles tenderly.

"You have been quiet," she murmured, aware that Sanosuke was listening. Kenshin made no move to reply, and Sanosuke let out a long-suffering sigh.

"What she's saying is that we know you're hiding something," Sanosuke growled, stuffing his hands in his pockets and staring moodily into space. "Not that it's uncommon for you to go all dark and mysterious on us, but today you're about as open as that jerk Aoshi."

"Yeah," Yahiko mumbled from his face-down position in the dirt. "Turning into that creep Aoshi...all dark and cranky..."

"That's impolite to Aoshi, Yahiko," Kenshin admonished gently.

"Speak to us," Midori probbed, trying to catch his gaze with her own. "Tell us what is bothering you. You know I hate it when you attempt to keep me in the dark, and I will find out what is going on eventually. But I would rather you told me yourself."

Beside them, Sanosuke let out an almost animalistic growl. "I'm tired of you acting like I'm still a weakness to you, Kenshin. Tell us what's up or I'll beat it out of you. The girls are over there, so they won't hear you; start talking."

Kenshin sat silently for another long moment, but when Midori squeezed his hand again her friend let out a quiet sigh and nodded his head once.

"Yes, you are right," he conceded, keeping his voice low and leaning into Midori's side as though suddenly exhausted. "I should have told you earlier, but this thing that bothers me...it is difficult for me to speak off."

He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and began speaking.

Midori listened silently as Kenshin told them of the first time he had met the stranger who had dined at the Akabeko earlier that day. She listened as he spoke of the great battle of Tobafushimi near the end of the Bakumatsu, of the slaughter in which he took part. He told of fighting the stranger, of severing his hand with his superior skills, of the way the stranger had begged Kenshin to kill him.

The stranger had been a warrior to his soul; he had not wished to live as a cripple in the Meiji Era, where battles would be settled with bullets and cannons instead of by skill and strength of spirit. He had begged Kenshin to allow him to die a warriors' death.

And Kenshin had refused. He had bade the stranger to live a life of peace in the new era; he had walked away with the stranger's outraged screams echoing in his ears. He had not seen the man again until today.

The four sat quietly once Kenshin had finished his story. Midori held onto his hand, replaying what he had just said in her mind. She could picture the scene: Kenshin's blade slicing through skin and bone as if they were butter; the severed hand flying; the stranger begging for an honorable death, and his fury when his wish was not granted. For a warrior to live as a cripple was to live a half-life; Kenshin would have been kinder to end his suffering then.

"So his arm is your work?" Sanosuke broke the silence, staring into the darkness ahead of him as he spoke.

"Yes."

"But he didn't notice you?"

Midori thought of the tension she had felt at the Akabeko when Kenshin and the stranger had locked eyes. Her free hand crept up to stroke the strap of her sheath even as Kenshin issued a denial.

"Then don't you think you might be letting it get to you a little too much?" Sanosuke's voice was kind, placating as though speaking to a spooked child; Midori was almost insulted on Kenshin's behalf, though she knew Sanosuke meant nothing by it. Kenshin stirred breifly at her side.

"But -"

"No buts," Sanosuke declared in a loud voice, smacking Kenshin on the back in what was meant as a reassuring manner. "It's about time you got used to peace, for cripe's sake."

Midori squeezed Kenshin's hand, making herself stay quiet. Sanosuke didn't understand. He had never shed blood; had never ended a life. He had never lived in a constant state of vigilance in fear that if he lowered his guard even for an instant, his life would come to an end by an enemy's blade. For one who had lived in such times, one who had fought and killed and spent their dawns washing the blood from their hands - for those like Kenshin and Midori - even now in this time of peace, it was difficult not to be suspicious. It was difficult not to be constantly on alert for danger, to themselves or to their friends. Sanosuke, though he had lived in the times and seen the slaughter of the Sekihoti, would never fully understand why the stranger's appearance spooked Kenshin.

Midori did.

But before anyone could say anything further, the quiet of the night was shattered by an ear-splitting _**boom**_.

Instantly Midori and Kenshin were on their feet, heads swinging around for the source of the noise. It was not one that Midori was familiar with, but by the way Kenshin had tensed against her side in the split second after the sound, he knew exactly what that sound had come from - and it was not a good sound.

A flash of light lit up the sky like a brief flare of the sun, and all went dark and still again.

"What was that?" Sanosuke breathed, his eyes still fixed on the now dark sky. A glance showed that the girls and Yahiko were likewise transfixed. "Fireworks?"

"No," Kenshin whispered, his hand now gripping Midori's so tightly it hurt. "I know that sound. I heard it many times in battle. That was not fireworks."

"Then what was it?"

"It was a cannon."

Before any more questions could be asked, the sound of the town's fire bell and a flurry of movement to their backs had them spinning as a score or more of Tokyo's police force thundered down the road, the police chief in the lead.

"Out of the way, out of the way, clear a path!" the police chief shouted, waving a hand through the air in a gesture for them to step back. The group did so, and the police chief stopped for a moment to speak with them.

"Chief, what happened?" Kenshin asked, raising his voice to be heard over the thunder of the police's boot-clad feet.

"Didn't you hear it? That was a shot fired from a cannon!" the chief shouted back, his face dark in the gloom of the night.

"Someone fired on the city from Mount Ueno! A restaurant called the Akabeko took a direct hit! We're mobilizing the entire police force to surround the mountain!"

Midori vaguely heard Tae's gasp of surprise or shock from behind her as the chief went haring off after his men. She was running in his direction before Kenshin could stop her, following behind the chief as the police force sprinted to the mountain. She wanted to see if they found anything, not stay safely behind with the women and children.

Midori registered Kenshin's presence beside her and Sanosuke's labored breathing to her back a few moments later, but none of them stopped to chat. The trio followed steadily behind the police force as they climbed their way up Mount Ueno and began searching the area for clues as to who had apparently blown up the Akabeko. It wasn't long before Midori heard a shout of surprise.

She made her way towards the sounds of the police. Her eyes darted to the massive tree that lay at their feet to the faces of the police officers to Kenshin's face, across the tree from where she stood. His eyes were shadowed by the night and by his long bangs, but the set of his jaw did not bode well.

"The sacred tree's been knocked over!" Someone yelled in the crowd surrounding her.

"But you can't see where they put the cannon pedestal!" Another voice cracked the air.

Midori lept lightly over the fallen tree and went to stand at Kenshin's side. He was staring at the tree pensively, the muscles in his upper body coiled tight as a spring.

"Look at that," he whispered to her, gesturing to the ground by the fallen tree. "That footprint is so deep..."

Midori looked where he had indecated; the footprint was indeed impossibly deep into the mountain soil, as though the one who had left it had been carrying something very, very heavy. But surely that couldn't be right.

"How is that possible?" Midori asked aloud. Kenshin seemed to know what had happened; if she pestered him long enough he would tell her.

"He was probably carrying the gun when it was fired," Kenshin murmured, eyes still fixed on the impossibly deep footprint. "He must have set it against the tree to absorb the recoil of the shot..."

"You think this was that whale-mouthed guy from the Akabeko?" Sanosuke had made his way through the police to stand beside them; he too was examining the footprint. "He's bigger than anyone I've ever seen, but the guy's only got one good arm."

Sanosuke had a valid point. How could someone with only one hand hold a cannon steady in their arms? Steady enough to hit a target as far from here as the Akabeko?

"I do not believe that his presence in town today and this incident are merely coincedence," Kenshin replied, lifting his eyes from the ground at last to return Sanosuke's gaze. Before Sanosuke could reply, however, the police chief was calling to them from their left.

"Himura-san! The culprit left a note!"

In his hand he held a small piece of paper.

* * *

Midori sat on the porch at the dojo hours later, watching the sun break above the horizin as a new day began. Sleep had eluded her, as had calm. In her lap she held her katana, out of it's sheath and ready to protect her friends should the need arise.

Kenshin had not returned last night.

Midori knew that he blamed himself for the destruction of the Akabeko. The second note proclaiming Jinchu, likely left by a man who would have a reason to hate Kenshin, had struck him hard. He had seen Midori and Sanosuke back to the dojo, where Kaoru and Yahiko had been waiting, and then he had disappeared. Sanosuke had wanted to pursue him, but Midori had stopped him. Kenshin needed time alone right now.

Midori's mind wandered to the rubble that was all that remained of the Akabeko - she, Kenshin, and Sanosuke had stopped by to check on Tae and Tsubame before returning to the dojo. Tae was at a loss; her business, her life, lay in tatters before her. Tsubame had been crying. They had nothing, now; the restaurant would have to be rebuilt from scratch, and who knew how much money that was going to cost.

Rage filled Midori at the thought. That bastard. That son of a **_bitch_**. If the one-armed man and the weirdly dressed man from a week ago were working together, as both she and Kenshin suspected, then this 'boss' the man in the kimono had spoken of was to blame for Tae's loss. How _dare_ he destroy her life like that? What sort of justice attacked the defenseless. This jinchu was an abomination.

And where or who would this boss attack next? Megumi's clinic, sick patients and all? The dojo? Where?

Who _was_ this person?

And who would be his next victim?

* * *

A/N: Please review.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea._

* * *

Midori lurked around the gates of the Kamiya Dojo, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. A shout of fury split the air, and Midori let out a sigh. Kaoru and Yahiko were fighting again. From the sounds issuing from the training dojo, they were trying to bring the building down as they pounded away at one another.

Midori thought about trying to track down a good fight for herself, anything to lessen the crushing tension that had plauged her for the past several days, since the disaster the night the Akabeko was destroyed. But such a wish was useless; the only person she knew aside from Kenshin who might be able to give her a good fight was Sanosuke, and Midori suspected there would be hell to pay for the both of them if a certain lady doctor found the two of them fighting for fun. Sanosuke was still, even after all this time, on strick orders not to overexert his left hand, which had been mangled badly when he had punch Makoto Shishio in the head with his Futae no Kiwame technique and it had backfired. Megumi would skin him alive if he disobeyed her command, and Midori would fare worse for asking him to do so.

So instead she paced the insufficiant length of the Kamiya Dojo's courtyard, feeling the closeness of the town more than she had in months. Paced, and listened to Yahiko shout his demands and then beg for Kaoru to teach him the succession techinques of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu. The two had been fighting and arguing with one another in the training dojo since around noon; it was nearly dusk now. Their bickering had given Midori a killer headache, but experiance over the past year had taught her that it was futile to attempt to stop those two once they got going. Short of scaring them half to death with her particularly lethal glares and getting a lecture from Kenshin later, she would just have to wait until they tired themselves out and stopped for the day.

Midori wished that Kenshin wasn't being such an ass about letting her leave the dojo for a while. She wanted space, and peace, and a measure of quiet. She was not likely to get any of those surrounded as she was by people. The tension was starting to seriously wear on her nerves.

But worse than the claustrophobia and the tension was the waiting.

Waiting for another attack. Waiting to see who would be targeted next. Waiting to see if someone Kenshin knew in passing would show up dead some morning with a piece of paper declaring Jinchu tacked to his or her clothing.

Waiting for the ball to drop.

Sanosuke, at least, had managed to come up with an excuse to get away from the dojo. He was over at Megumi's clinic, pestering the doctor and watching for anything suspicious. If she were targeted, Sanosuke would be able to protect her until Kenshin or Midori or both showed up to help. Hopefully he could refrain from having Megumi kill him for the time being.

A voice called from behind the closed dojo gates.

"Umm...excuse me..."

Midori continued her pacing as Kenshin approached the gates with his hand poised to draw his _sakabatou_. The warning look on his face was soon replaced by a welcoming smile as he pushed the heavy gates aside to allow the slight figure of little Tsubame to enter the courtyard. The girl carried a small bag in her petite hands. Midori paused, her brow furrowed in question as Kenshin greeted the girl warmly.

"Kaoru-dono said you would be coming," Kenshin was saying as he took the little bag from Tsubame's hands.

Midori resumed pacing. Obviously the little girl would be staying with them for protection, since anyone connected to Kenshin was now in danger of attack. Why could the doctor lady not come to stay with them as well? It was unfair that Midori had to remain cooped up in this place when Sanosuke could wander where he wished. She shot a venomus look at Kenshin that he pretended not to see.

There was a renewed racket coming from the training dojo, and Tsubame was eyeing the building with trepidition.

"They...must be working very hard," Tsubame squeaked in her high-pitched voice. "Is it...some kind of training?"

Midori snorted in a most un-ladylike manner, drawing a near-scandalized look from Tsubame which she summarily ignored.

"No. Kaoru-dono and Yahiko-chan have been at it for half the day now," Kenshin explained, sounding as though it were as natural an occurance as the rising and setting of the sun. Tsubame did not seem soothed.

"Half the _day_? B-b-but what if they hurt themselves?"

Kenshin patted the girl consolingly on the shoulder. "It's better for them to be too energetic than otherwise. Let them vent some steam."

Here Midori growled low; he wouldn't let _her_ vent any steam, the sorry bastard.

Tsubame edged closer to Kenshin as though afraid Midori would pounce on her at any moment. He draped an arm carefully around the girl's shoulder and began leading her away, still talking cheerfully.

"They'll be alright. They will get hungry soon and the fight will end on it's own. Now then, why don't we get you settled into the room you will be using..." His voice trailed off as they rounded a corner of the porch and vanished from sight.

Midori stalked to the porch directly across from the gates and plopped down, her mood black as tar. She wanted _out of this damned dojo. _As soon as Kenshin fell asleep tonight, she was sneaking off to the river. If he woke and came after her, the jackass would be taking a cold swim. She wanted quiet. She wanted to be alone. And she could damn well take care of herself, thank you very much Kenshin.

The shouting from the training dojo had stopped at last, and out of the corner of her eye Midori spotted Kaoru making her way to the bath house. The pounding in her head was growing louder now that she finally had her quiet, and Midori groaned low in her throat as she dropped her head into her hands and started rubbing her temples with her forefingers.

Could this day get any worse for her?

* * *

The answer was to come that night.

Midori was dozing on the porch with her back to a support beam, too full of steam and irritation to truly sleep. She had not made it to the river. Kenshin had spotted her as she made to leap the outer walls and had not been pleased.

She had been less than thrilled, as well. She was sick of him treating her as a child. Hell, she had killed more people than he had and she actually carried a weapon that would do more than bruise or break a few bones. She didn't need him to watch her constantly. His lack of faith in her would never cease to piss her off. She had been moody and short of temper all day and now she wasn't relaxed enough to be truly asleep, instead dozing lightly at her favorite lounging spot on the porch.

So when someone began banging wildly at the dojo gates long after the sun had set and the stars had illuminated the sky, Midori was on her feet and halfway across the courtyard with her _katana_ unsheathed in a heartbeat. She could hear the others rousing as the pounding continued, heard Kaoru's voice call out to Kenshin in question. Midori herself made no sound as she lept to the top of the outer wall and peared into the gloomy night, trying to disearn who the visitor was.

When she saw that the man was bleeding from several places, Midori was quick to alight on the ground beside him, scaring the man so bad that he let out a loud shriek of terror.

"Hush," Midori commanded, sheathing her blade after a cursury glance around them and holding her empty hands out to the wounded man. "I will not harm you. What happened?"

"Himura-san!" The man grasped at Midori's outstretched hands with his own, scrambling for a hold with which to draw her nearer. "I must speak to Himura-san, the dojo, he has to help!"

Midori tore one hand free of the man's grip and pounded on the gates to her side, yelling for Kenshin to open up.

It took Kenshin a few minutes to get the man to calm down enough to speak coherently, but his tale when he began speaking was not pleasent.

"You have...to help us..." The man stuttered and coughed, taking short shallow breaths like one who had run a great distance in a short timespan. "The Maekawa Dojo...we were attacked...this man...he means to kill us all...I ran...the police can't help...please..."

Here the man reached up a battered hand towards Kenshin, the appendage shaking wildly. After a short moment, the hand fell, and the man passed out.

Kenshin and Midori immediately sprinted out off the gates, only to be brought up short by Yahiko's shouts from behind them.

"Kenshin, wait! I'm coming too!"

With no time to be gentle, Kenshin was overly harsh as he spun and shouted for Yahiko to remain where he was. Yahiko flinched at the denial, his eyes shining with hurt for a moment before he bowed his head. After sharp orders for Yahiko and Kaoru to bar the gates and keep watch, and a reassurance that they would be back by morning, Kenshin turned again and flew past Midori down the street. Midori wasted no time in following after him.

Since Midori had absolutely no idea where this Maekawa Dojo was, she followed closely behind Kenshin as he wove his way quickly through the streets of Tokyo. At one point, the pair heard their names shouted out, and where joined moments later by Sanosuke, looking like he had just rolled out of bed and was rairing for a fight. Beside him, bloodied and bandaged police officers straggled along; they had obviously been on the receiving end of one hell of a beating. They were very relieved to see Kenshin, who was on a first name basis with the police chief for reasons Midori had never cared to learn. Apparently the chief was indisposed and the police force was floundering without his leadership.

"He isn't here?" Kenshin repeated the words with shock plain on his face. "Why?

The police officers in front of them exchanged looks before a man with his arm in a sling answered.

"Um...there was some kind of emergency at the chief's own house..."

The bottom dropped out of Midori's stomach.

* * *

Someone was watching them.

Midori hurtled across the rooftops, running parallel to Kenshin down on the streets, and tried to figure out why she felt eyes upon her. It was close to midnight; the streets were basically empty; there was no reason for the hairs on the back of her neck to be standing on end. She tried to push the feeling out of her mind, tried to concentrate on following Kenshin as he ran towards the police chief's home. He had charged Sanosuke with the defense of the Maekawa Dojo and sprinted off without another word, leaving Midori to follow in his wake.

She'd worry more about invisible eyes when lives were not in danger right before her.

Midori didn't understand this. Why would someone attack another dojo to strike at Kenshin? Why attack the police chief? Surely they wouldn't hurt the man's family? What sort of justice was that, one that struck at the innocent to punish the guilty? Her fingers iched to wrap around the neck of the person responsible for these atrocious attacks that harmed innocent people.

If they came against Kenshin, she would kill them; that was certain. So as Midori raced across the rooftops of a nighttime Japan in hopes of saving the police chief from harm or death, she prayed to whatever gods were listening that Kenshin would be targeted directly. _Soon_.

Kenshin had stopped at a house at last, and Midori leapt down to stand next to him. They advanced on the open front door, hearing the crying of women and a man's voice moaning from inside. A familiar voice was talking, it's pitch grating on Midori's ears.

"Don't fret now, don't fret. I won't leave you ladies all alone. I'll send your whole family to the afterlife together! Isn't that lovely of me?"

Midori yanked her _katana_ from it's sheath and would have charged into the buidling ready to kill if Kenshin hadn't grasped her elbow and shook his head.

_He might kill them_, he mouthed.

Midori scowled and pulled her elbow free, but made no further move to charge the house. They crept forward shoulder to shoulder, two blades out and ready. They came to the door, and Midori's blood boiled at the sight of the weirdly dressed man from the attack on her person the previous week.

"Don't hate me for this," he was saying, facing the police chief where he knelt on the floor with a _katana_ pinning one hand and his family cowering against the wall. "If you need to hate someone - "

"They should hate me?" The words issued as a growl from Kenshin's throat.

As the man whirled to face them, Midori dove and rolled past him to put herself between him and the innocents present, her _katana_ held at an angle to her body and a lethal look on her face.

"Himura-san!" the police chief bleated, seemingly caught between pained fear and relief at his savior's arrival. The attacker half-turned to look at the chief, only to be met with Midori's fierce scowl. He smiled widely at her.

"Oooo, you're that pretty little kitten from last week!" he crowed, his cold eyes glittering down at her crouched form. "Have you come to play with me, Zetsumei Kurohyou? I do so like to play."

Midori snarled at him, moving to attack only to be stopped by Kenshin's cry of "Kabu, don't!"

She stopped where she was, half-crouched to defend and half-poised to attack, her eyes seeking out Kenshin's figure in the doorway.

"There are innocents here," he reminded her firmly, his eyes gleaming indigo in the dim lighting of the room. "Protect them. Let me deal with this man."

Slowly, never taking her eyes from Kenshin's face, Midori sank back into her defensive crouch.

The attacker crowed in delight again, drawing Midori's gaze back to him.

"Oooo, so the little kitten is leashed by the mighty Battousai!" he cawed, tapping a finger to his colored lips as though deep in thought. "If he commands you to roll over or fetch, would you do so, Zetsumei Kurohyou?"

He turned away from the sound of Midori's furious snarls, intent now on engaging Kenshin and apparently confident that she would not strike while his back was turned. Midori gritted her teeth and cursed Kenshin for his hold on her even as she whirled to face the police chief. Before she could free his hand, the attacker was heard to order Kenshin to draw his now resheathed _sakabato_, and the chief cried out.

"No, don't Himura-san!" he yelled, the veins in his thin neck bulging in panic. "There's something strange about his left hand! He can fire a gun without even moving!"

Midori eyed the attacker over her shoulder. He held no weapon that she could see, yet he stood before Himura Battousai and commanded him to draw his blade. Did this man have a death wish?

"Let me ask one thing," Kenshin called from where he had retreated into the police chief's small yard. "For who's sake do you seek revenge against me?"

The attacker laughed as though a fine joke had just been uttered. "Oh, yes, that's right, that's right. It would be a shame to send you to the next world without knowing that. It was a friend of mine. A good man, he was. Those night in which we used to compete to see who could kill the most men...oh, I did so enjoy those nights."

Sickened by the man's words, Midori turned back to the pinned police chief. She firmly placed her hand on his wrist so as to hold his arm down, and with the hand that still held her _katana_ she gripped the hilt of the weapon lodged in the police chief's own flesh.

"This will hurt," she offered by way of both warning and apology; and without another moment wasted she jerked the blade free of the man's skin. He let out a yell of pain and fell backwards. Midori tossed the bloody _katana_ aside and turned in time to see the attacker lift his hand towards Kenshin.

"Himura-san!" the chief shouted in warning from behind her.

Kenshin did not crumple as though struck. One hand was clenched into a fist, from which a steady line of blood dripped to the ground. For a moment Midori though his fingernails were cutting the flesh of his palm, but then she glimpsed the crossbow quarrel he gripped in said hand.

"So this is your mysterious power," he declared as he tossed the quarrel away.

"Mmm, yes," the attacker agreed quite languidly, raising one arm and pulled back a kimono sleeve to reveal the crossbow strapped to his arm; the same weapon he had used to strike Midori a week previous.

"An assassin's tool," Midori hissed, furious that this man would attack with such treachorous, cowardly means.

"That's right," the man crowed. "My specialty is assassin's tools. No _katana_ or martial art can match me! I, Otowa Hyouko, with these weapons hidden all over my body, will take down any target!"

Midori weeded out the bullshit of this fool's boasting and latched onto the important detail of what he had just said: he had more than one weapon. How many more? What kinds of weapons?

From the yard, Kenshin spoke quietly to this Otowa.

"If you want revenge, I will meet your challenge whenever you like. But this involvement of others will end."

Kenshin had not raised his voice or given the words undo infliction, but Midori knew from his flat tone that he was deadly serious. Apparently, Otowa missed that, or else he was supremely stupid in his confidiance; he turned his back on Kenshin to fetch the _katana_ that had previously been pinning the police chief hands to the floor. Before turning back to Kenshin, Otowa caught Midori's eye and actually _winked_ at her.

_He will bleed for that_.

But Midori was not given the chance to make that man bleed. A flick of his hand and a watery explosion later, and the yard and house were flooded with a strange fog.

_Poison_.

"Hold your breath!" Midori shouted to the people cowering behind her, her own nose and mouth blocked by her _gi's_ sleeve. From the fog in front of her, she could here the man Otowa crowing with laughter.

"Oh, don't fret now, Zetsumei Kurohyou. The fog alone won't kill you, but it will paralyze you for four or five minutes. Plenty of time for me to make my escape. I had a few more tricks I wanted to show you, but that will have to wait until it's time for Jinchu."

_Jinchu again_?

"Bye-bye, now!" The man flapped his kimono sleeve in Midori's direction before melting backwards into the fog. Midori attempted to follow, but her limbs were grown heavy of a sudden; she must had inhaled a little of the poison fog warning those behind her. Damn it.

Kenshin plobbed into the police chief's house, moving much less gracefully than usual. Midori would have laughed if she wasn't so pissed. That coward! Paralyzing her and then running off like a frightened child! Literally adding that insult of implying that she were Kenshin's pet to the physical injury he had gifted her with the week before...she wanted his blood. She wanted it _now_.

Midori stomped over to where the police chief lay sprawled in front of his family, two women holding him tightly by the shoulders as he cradled his pierced hand to his chest. Another young man in police dress lay unconscious beside them. She reached down somewhat clumsily to help them to their feet; the heaviness had not yet left her limbs.

"...**_CHU_**..."

Midori's head snapped around at the sound of a faraway voice screaming into the night. The hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end; her muscled all tensed simultaneously.

"_**IT'S TIME FOR JINCHU**_!"

"_Kabu_!" Kenshin scrambled forward, grabbing the police chief and slinging the man over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Out, out, get them out of the house, _hurry_!"

Midori did not waste time asking questions; the women were already running for the door after Kenshin's departing figure. Midori leaned down, heafted the unconscious police officer onto one shoulder, turned for the door -

The world exploded in a flair of pain.

* * *

Waking up was _not_ a pleasant experiance.

Midori groaned low, pressing her throbbing head into the mass of red in front of her eyes as she squinted them against the morning sun. The movement of her body told her that she was being carried, cradled piggy-back style on someone's back. The mass of red she has hiding her face in told her who's back.

"_Kuso_..." Midori wailed softly. Her body ached in places that should never hurt like that.

"Don't speak like that in front of Kaoru-dono. You know how she gets." Kenshin's voice was soft, calming.

Midori responded with a fouler word that would have thrown Kaoru into a coniption fit.

"Put me down, Kenshin. What the hell happened?"

Kenshin stopped at once and lowered her gently to her feet, taking her hand in his as they began walking again. Midori looked around; they were walking a road that passed by a section of the river, a brigde to cross over the rushing waters not far in front of them. Her _katana_ had been returned to it's sheath at some point; Kenshin's _sakabato_ was likewise put away. They were alone.

And Midori felt like shit.

"What hit me?" she muttered, cutting a black look at her companion when he choked on a laugh at her question. Laughing at her when she felt like this...he was asking for it, that jackass.

"It was the same as the Akabeko," he quickly explained - the look on her face had apparently let him know just how close he was to loosing a limb or two. "A shot fired from a cannon. The police chief's house is destroyed."

"The chief? His family?"

"All largely unhurt. The man you were attempting to help is also fine; you were thrown through the outside wall of the house by the blast when the cannon shot hit, and he landed on you. You might have a few broken ribs - we will ask Megumi to examine you."

"Joy," Midori mumbled, stumbling slightly as her legs refused to cooperate with her will to walk forward. "Let the lady doctor poke at me and see where it hurts the most. Sounds like fun."

Kenshin's released her hand and placed his arm around her waist, steadying her with an annoyingly familiar worried expression on his face. "Are you sure you should be walking? You were thrown a fair distance."

Midori wanted to throw _him_ a fair distance. "Stop babying me. I am perfectly capable of -"

The hairs on the back of her neck jumped to attention - even her _hair_ hurt - and Midori's words cut off abruptly as her eyes swung to find the source of the feeling. Someone was watching her. She _knew_ that someone was watching her, damnit, and it was going to _stop_.

Her eyes came to rest on a figure standing on the bridge ahead of them. She could not see his eyes, as they were shaded by his hair, but she felt sure that it was he who watched her. She nudged Kenshin in the side and nodded towards the man.

"Do you know that man?"

Kenshin, who had been watching her attentively in case she should stumble again, pulled his eyes away from her and focused instead upon the man standing stationary in the middle of the brigde they were about to need to cross.

Midori let out a growl of pain when the arm that had been steadying her suddenly wrapped completely around her waist and fairly yanked her to a stop beside Kenshin's abruptly still form. She turned to him intending to outline just exactly why he would be wise to stop yanking her around in her current state - and was stopped by the utterly horrified look upon his face. He was staring, open-mouthed, at the man before them on the bridge. Midori turned her head to do the same.

Under a shock of snow-white hair, the man's face was youthful, looking to put him of an age with Sanosuke. To Midori's mind, he was dressed somewhat oddly: one ear boasted a round dangling bauble while the other was unadorned; dark glasses rested upon his thin nose; a swath of black fabric wrapped across his shoulders, fluttering behind him like some sort of fancy man's cape. He wore a tunic of the Chinese variety, black in the middle and _orange_ of all colors for the rest with a black stripe traversing the length of the sleeves. He wore pants of the western style, colored so as to match his tunic, and falling long to rest atop his booted feet. Behind one shoulder, a cloth-wrapped appendage was seen; it was large enough to extend the length of his torso and part of his legs. A rope, tied to the portion prutruding behind his shoulder, was wrapped several times around his currently fisted left hand.

Midori had never seen this man before in all her life.

"You...you're..."

Beside her, Kenshin was behaving as though in a trance, his words leaving his mouth reluctantly. His arm around her waist squeezed tight enough to bruise.

"_Enishi_," he breathed, like one who has just spied a ghost come to haunt them.

In front of them, the strange man smiled.

**_"T -___**** Tomoe**?"

_That_ had Midori eyeing Kenshin in fear that he had suddenly taken leave of his senses. Why did he call _her_ name?

The man was smiling more broadly than ever.

"What's wrong, Battousai?" he inquired pleasantly, like a host asking after the health of an honored guest. "Did you see my sister's ghost, too?"

_What?_

"Can you see her too? My dear sister Tomoe?"

_His sister?_

Midori was completely lost. This stranger was Tomoe Yukishiro's brother? What did he mean, _see_ her? Tomoe was dead.

"That's right. She's always with me." Here the stranger raised his empty right hand and placed it lovingly over his heart. "Now, always...and forever. But _you_, Battousai..."

The smile faded from the young man's handsome face.

"There is no trace of my sister in you."

Midori had not the slightest clue what this man was speaking of. But what she did know, what she could see with her own eyes, was that he was causing Kenshin considerable stress. She pulled herself from Kenshin's tight grip and placed herself firmly between the strange young man and her friend.

"Go your ways," she warned quietly, her hand going up to wrap around her weapon's hilt.

That creepy smile was back.

"I have had a long night and am in no mood for this." Midori was growling now, angered by that smile that as much as said she was worthless against this man. "I gather from your impeccible timing that you are the one responsible for the recent attacks. Leave or I will color the wood of this bridge with your blood."

The man threw back his head and laughed. He laughed and laughed until tears rolled from his eyes, and then the laughter continued as Midori listed all the ways she wanted to hurt the son of a bitch for laughing at her like that. Finally he removed the dark glasses from his face and wiped at his eyes, still grinning widely.

"You know, the last time I saw you Battousai, it was right after the battle at Toshifushimi." He ignored Midori completely, looking past her as though she were not present and doing nothing to help her growing temper. "Has it been eleven years already?"

Midori glared at this man, this Enishi; he seemed to enjoy the sound of his own voice, or perhaps the pain radiating off of Kenshin was what he found so enjoyable. Bastard.

From behind her, Kenshin took a halting breath. "Where ha-"

"Where have I been all these years?" Enishi interrrupted rudely; Midori bristled at him in fury. "I was in Shanghai. I didn't want to live in this new Japan that you Ishin Shishi created."

Midori checked her position on the brigde, a layer of caution blanketing her anger momentarily. This man had been in Shanghai for the last eleven years; Shanghai was synopsis with Hell itself. One did not simply show up in Shanghai and live a happy, carefree life; one showed up in Shanghai with as many weapons as one could carry, ready to defend oneself against anyone old enough to walk. If they were old enough to walk they were old enough to try to kill you in Shanghai.

In front of her, the stranger Enishi was crooning softly, speaking as though to a frightened child. His words sent shivers coursing through Midori's body.

"Shanghai...a demon city of the Orient, a whirlpool of riches and greed from both east and west...After the Boshin War, after I lost my sister, my family was scattered. For a kid driven out of Japan, to survive in Shanghai meant coming out on top of the fiercest competition. I drank from mud puddles. I ate dead flesh. I was always getting sick, always just about to die."

Midori wanted to plug her ears; not nesseccarily for pity of Enishi, but for the memories his words stirred in her blood.

Memories of lapping at puddles in the road as her masters dragged her from city to city; memories of hunger gnawing at her little stomach, of the taste of the bones that were her substanance for weeks on end when her masters were feeling vinidictive. The feel of a man's hand on her young body, feeling for fat on her arms and legs as she was sold yet again. The feel of a switch against her little back when her mistress was angry. The memories, long since surpressed, beat against the mental box in which they were stored.

Behind her, Midori faintly heard Kenshin's wavering voice.

"Stop. That's enough. Don't tell me anymore."

"You'll listen to this." The smile was still there, reminding Midori of others that had smiled at her with that same sickening expression. "This is the only thing I have to thank you for...

"Yes...I was always close to death, but I survived. My revenge...to avenge my sister's death was the only thing in my heart. Eleven years of that...I lived in Shanghai so long that I almost forgot how to speak Japanese. I crawled my way to the top."

Enishi's free hand vanished into the Chinese tunic, emerging moments later clutching a fancy hand gun like the rich police officers sometimes carried.

"The top of the Shanghai Mafia, controlling an entire continent of illicit arms manufacturers!"

Enishi laughed again, crazy and wild. He pointed his gun past Midori's head, fixing his sights on Kenshin.

"Kurjiranami's armstrong cannon, Otowa's assassin's tools...Bajin's cutom-made tekkou...Gein's explosives...ALL SUPPLIED BY _MY_ ORGANIZATION!"

His voice rose higher and higher as his continued speaking, until he was fairly shouting at them from a few feet away.

"And...Makoto Shishio? Do you remember his battleship? I arranged for that as well."

Midori felt as though the wind was suddenly knocked from her lungs at the sound of that name.

Without warning, Enishi fired his gun several times in quick sessision. Midori whirled to find Kenshin, only to see him standing in exactly the same place as before. The ground at his feet was now peppered with lightly smoking holes. Midori turned warily back to Enishi, who stood serenely smiling at the two of them like some lofty god of old.

"But...that was a mistake, I suppose...I hardly expected you and Shishio to meet head-on...lucky this woman was there to save you, Battousai. I'm so glad you survived. Thank you for that, Zetsumei Kurohyou."

Here he nodded politely at Midori, who glowered at him menacingly in return.

"I understand, Enishi..."

Midori eyed Kenshin over one shoulder, unsure what he was saying. Her friend was staring at Enishi, all fear or pain gone from his face. He looked determined about something.

"You want revenge for your sister's death. That's perfectly natural. I can't deny your right for revenge."

Midori spun again to face Kenshin head-on, several biting comments on the tip of her tongue. Like hell he was going to allow himself to be slain. Not while she still drew breath.

"But there is one thing!" Kenshin continued in a hard voice, before Midori could tell him to shut up. "Don't hurt anyone else! Your revenge is against me alone. Only**_ I_** should accept your punishment."

Midori wanted to smack him. Self-sacrificing jackass.

"No! My revenge _isn't_ for you alone," Enishi corrected, drawing Midori's gaze back to him in time for that creepy smile to vanish at last. "It is for _**everyone**_."

His voice sickened Midori as he ranted.

"Those you hold dear, those you speak with. This Japan, that you built with your bloody blade. A Japan without my sister...it is a sin within itself."

"No!" Kenshin barked, taking a step forward; Midori matched with a step back, staying in between the two men but closer to Enishi. "Enishi, I'm the only one who committed the crime. I'm the only one who should be punished!"

Crime. What _crime_? Tomoe had thrown herself in between Kenshin and another man and killed herself. This was ridiculous.

"If you keep this up," Kenshin yelled angrily, "this won't be _revenge_, it will be a _slaughter_! Even it Tomoe would have wanted revenge, she wouldn't have wanted _this_!"

Midori took one look at the expression on Enishi's face and pulled her _katana_ free of it's sheath. Clearly Kenshin had just said the _way_ wrong thing.

The gun came flying towards her, and would have gone flying past to strike Kenshin if she had not cut it into pieces with a flick of her wrist. The useless tool fell to the bridge.

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF HER!" Enishi shouted, totally enraged. The veins in his neck bulged with his ire. "WHAT DO _YOU_ KNOW ABOUT WHAT SHE WANTS? YOU TRY SAYING HER NAME AGAIN! TRY ONE MORE TIME, BATTOUSAI! TRY IT, _**AND TEN RENGOKU-CLASS BATTLESHIPS TURN TOKYO INTO A SEA OF FLAMES!" **_

Midori was now convinced: this man was totally insane when it came to his dead sister.

The three of them stood there in silence for a long moment, Enishi breathing hard from his outburst and Midori watching his every move like a hawk. At some point durning his tirade, Enishi had bitten a hole in his lip; after a minute or two he turned his head and spat a clump of blood onto the wood of the bridge. He heaved a calming sigh, looking at Midori and Kenshin from the corner of his eye with his head still turned.

"But, my sister wouldn't have liked all that uproar. She loved peace."

And yet he was violating the peace of this town to avenge her death?

That made barrels of sense to Midori.

"That's why I picked only those who hated you as I do. I kept my force to six, and targeted only those who had direct contact with you. If you have any complaints, I can happily make all of Tokyo a target instead." Perfectly calm again; telling them he had six minions, offering to destroy Tokyo like that was nothing of great importance. The three shared another short, tense silence.

Enishi's finger pushed the dark glasses up his nose.

"I'm done here. Today was just my declaration of war. The _real_ battle will begin ten days from now."

"Ten days?" Kenshin growled softly. Enishi smiled yet again.

"That's right...the place will be the Kamiya Dojo. There you will witness our perfect Jinchu!"

Midori had had enough of this. She shifted her feet, prepared to spring; ignoring the pain that still sat heavy upon her body and the voice of Kenshin behind her.

Enishi began to turn away. "I hope you look forward to it."

Midori lunged.

* * *

Several hours later, the residents of Japan were subjected to the sound of angry cursing coming from the general direction of the Kamiya Dojo. This being a fairly common occurance, the residents ignored the noise and went about their business.

"Damn you, you stupid son of a bitch! You should have let me take him down! I could have ended this fucked-up game of his in an instant! I can't believe you actually tackled me!"

"Kabu -"

"Shut up! You did all the talking at the bridge and nothing was accomplished, so now I talk and you sit there and listen!"

Kenshin cowered at his seat at the dining table, his hands raised as though to defend himself from a physical assault. Midori paced back and forth across from him, absolutely fuming with rage. Sanosuke, Megumi, Kaoru, Yahiko, and Tsubame were looking back and forth between them like spectators at a game.

"Why did you tackle me, damn you! One well-placed wound and this Enishi would never bother us again! I wasn't going to kill him, you baka, not right in the middle of the open where anyone might see! He wants to kill you, Kenshin, or did you miss that while you were wallowing in self-hatred up at the brigde? **_He wants to kill you. _**And I refuse to let that happen! You will die in your sleep of old age, or I will kill you myself for utter stupidity!"

Midori was beyond enraged. When she had lunged at Enishi earlier on that bridge, she had fallen short of her target due to a certain _carrot-headed **jackass**_ plowing into her from behind and knocking her off course. She had landed in the dirt to Enishi's right, her furious green gaze swinging from Enishi's lazily departing figure to Kenshin, who had held her pinned down in the road until Enishi was long gone. Not only had he stopped her from putting an end to the damned Jichu bullshit, he had put her face in the dirt in front of an opponent. Her pride would never recover.

She threw her sheathed katana down to the floor and stomped out of the dining hall, heading for the training dojo. She could hear the sound of feet racing madly after her, but did not stop or slow down or turn to tell the others to get lost. She needed to burn some steam. Badly. So she was going to go through the kata's of her style - the _Tenrai dageki taishite ikazuchi_-_kurohyou - _until she dropped from exhaustion. It shouldn't take too long, considering her bruised ribs and battered body; she'd wear down long before her anger was spent, but it would at least take the edge off of her temper.

She grabbed one of Kaoru's _bokken's_ from the bracket on the wall, went to the head of the training dojo's floor, and plopped down in a cross-legged position. She sat the _bokken_ down beside her, clutched at the knees of her _hakama_ with her fists, closed her eyes, and began attempting to moderate her breathing.

The sound of feet entering the dojo annoyed her ears. A voice called to her.

"Midori-san, it isn't a good idea for you to train with those bruised ribs. You might break one of them. Also, with your weak heart, as your physican, I must insist that -"

Midori snarled like a wild animal. Her physican fell quiet, and no one else spoke as she worked to calm herself.

She did the breathing techniques, stretched, went through every move of her style over and over as Yahiko and Kaoru trained around her. They were careful to give her a wide berth; they knew better than to pester her when she was in such a black mood. Detachedly, Midori registered that Tsubame was sitting against the wall next to Sanosuke, who was having his hand wrapped by the annoyed Megumi. Kenshin was nowhere to be seen.

Good. Let that _baka_ stew in his own muck while she cooled down. He should be alone, the way he had treated her; acting like he and that bastard Enishi were alone on that bridge, crying for his dead wife in front of her, tackling her to the ground from behind like she was a -

Midori snarled again, yanking her body through the required footwork; she noticed that Yahiko and Kaoru were even further from her than usual, but couldn't be bothered to care at the moment.

For hours, Midori pushed herself harder and harder, trying to burn some of the anger that raged inside of her. She wasn't just fighting against her anger for Kenshin, although there was plenty of that to keep her occupied. The words Enishi had spoken - those words about his life in Shanghai - the suffering he had endured...

The memories he had awakened with those damnable words infuriated her to no end.

At last, the door to the dojo slid open again, revealing a dirty, sleepy Kenshin. He had gone to nap directly after their shouting match, but it did not look as though his rest had been useful. One look at his pain-filled, exhausted eyes, and the rest of her anger with him evaporated in an instant. Midori dropped the bokken, suddenly feeling all her aches and pains, all the tiredness. She felt old of a sudden, and the feeling was not one she welcomed.

She went to Kenshin, and his head came down to rest on her shoulder as his arms loosely incircled her. She returned the embrace, stroking a hand through the tail of his hair, her hands shaking slightly from overexertion. She sighed; he echoed her.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "For yelling."

He said nothing in reply. Midori tightend her hold on him, pressing him to her despite her body's complaints.

"I need...to tell them." Kenshin's voice was weak in her ear, exhausted as she felt in spite of his nap. His hands pressed to her.

"I need to tell them about the night I killed her."

"Who?" Kaoru had come to stand beside them; it was she that asked the quesiton to which Midori already knew the answer.

"Tomoe. My wife. The reason behind this Jinchu."

* * *

A/N: Please review.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

___

* * *

_

It was hot tonight.

Midori lay on the river banks, her hands forming a pillow behind her head. The breeze from the waters beside her caused her long black bangs to sway back and forth, tickling her nose and cheeks. But Midori ignored the sensation; her mind was a million miles away. Or perhaps...just fifteen years in the past.

Tomoe Yukishiro...

She had fled the dojo once Kenshin made his intentions clear. She had lived the events that he would be recounting, and had no wish to look upon his face as he spoke of the Yukishiro woman that he had loved. The woman he had married.

The woman he had cleaved nearly in two.

And so Midori had run to her refuge, hoping to escape the coming gloom that Kenshin's story would spread over their friends. But it seemed the gloom had followed her. Midori sighed, allowing her eyes to fall closed and the memories of the past to flood to the present in her mind.

______

______

* * *

The girl stares straight ahead, not acknowlegding the jeers or the catcalls from either side of her, or those from behind her. Those that stand in front of her say nothing; they can see her eyes, the way they glow slightly in the fading light, the almost cat-like pupils. They are too wary of this strange-eyed girl with a pair of blades at her hip to say anything.

A man steps directly into her path, his hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed katana. His face is guarded, his eyes hard as he sweeps her with his gaze from head to foot.

"What is your business here, girl?" he barks out, his voice gruff. "This is no place for a woman, or a little girl such as yourself."

"I wish to see Kogoro Katsura."

The catcalls around her cut off abruptly. The man before her eyes her in disdain.

"You can't just walk up to Katsura-sama for a chat, girl," he growls, lifting his free hand and making a shooing motion as though to chase away an annoying fly. "Get out of here. This is a training camp for the Ishin Shishi, not a tea parlor."

He turns and walks away without another word.

The girl watches him go for a moment, and then cocks her head towards the sounds of steel clashing and men shouting orders some distance to her left. She heads in that direction. A field opens up before her, a field that teams with men of all ages and physical discriptions. An ancient geezer swinging a tree branch prances about; a teen with his father's ornamental katana stands nervously off to one side. The girl strides forward.

Her presence in the field draws attention. The men who had previously been trying to impress each other with nonexistant skills now turn on her, like wolves ratting out the weakest of a pack.

"Hey! Hey girl!"

"What are you doing here!"

"Who'd you steal those weapons from?"

"This ain't any place for a girl! Get out of here, before you get yourself hurt!"

"We're men here, girl, training to be the liberators of you womenfolk from the Tokogawa oppression!"

The girl ignores them all. She snakes her way through the gathering crowd, walking steadily towards the far end of the field, where posts for training have been erected. On the other side of the thick wooden stumps, the commanders of this rabble stand. They watch her approach with bemused expressions. The girl comes to stand before them, the training posts a barrier between her and the ten older men.

"I wish to see Kogoro Katsura," she repeats.

Laughter breaks out behind her; the rabble find it quite funny that a girl has come calling on the head of the Chosu's Ishin Shishi. The girl ignores them, her eyes sweeping the line of warriors standing before her. She knows instinctively that Katsura will not be in their numbers.

One of the warriors steps forward slightly.

"Listen, child. This is no place for you. It is dangerous here. Where are your parents?"

"I wish to see Kogoro Katsura."

The man's brow furrows. "Are you alone? Is your father one of the men here?"

"I wish to see Kogoro Katsura."

Another of the commanders steps forward, a scowl on his craggy face. "You may not see him. Katsura-sama does not have time to recieve every foolish girl who comes to fawn over him."

The girl is silent. The first commander waves the second aside before approaching the girl and putting a gauntleted hand gently on her slim shoulder.

"Child," he says in a quiet voice. "Please come with me. I will escort you to safety."

His hand is shrugged away, and the girl steps forward and to the side so that she is positioned directly in front of one of the thick post. Her hand goes to the hilt of the katana at her waist; she crouches.

And then she vanishes.

The post, severed in half, flies up into the air. There comes a flash like the light of the sun reflected from a blade, and the two halves become four pieces, which fall to the ground around the now-visible figure of the girl. She straightens and resheathes her katana before turning to face the dumb-struck commander who had thought she needed protection.

"I wish to see Kogoro Katsura."

* * *

Even now, sixteen years later, the memory of the looks on those men's faces brought a faint grin to Midori's lips.

* * *

_The girl followed behind the awe-struck messenger as he led her away from the training field. The polite commander who had wished to protect an innocent girl had sent this boy running for Katsura after she destroyed the post and repeated her reason for being here. They had all - rabble, commanders, and girl - stood in an akward silence until the boy had come sprinting back, bearing word that Katsura would speak with the girl. Now she walks towards the man who is the only one that can help her._

_They come upon a man sitting quietly off by himself. He sits perched atop a hill, overlooking the fields below where the men who wish to serve as part of his army are congregated. The girl studies him from behind as the boy messenger leaps forward and speaks low in Katsura's ears. The leader of the Chosu's army nods his head, and the boy departs, giving the girl a wide berth as he passes her._

_"Please come and sit with me, young lady."_

_The girl advances, her arms folded across her chest and her hands hidden by the black sleeves of her gi. Cautiously, she comes to a stop to the man's right and slowly lowers herself to the ground, not stopping to remove her weapons beforehand. A leader this man might be, but he is still a man and a stranger, and the girl will be wary around him until he earns her trust._

_She shoots a glance at the man from the corner of her eyes, bristling when she finds that he is staring quite openly at her. She looks away, out across the fields of men whom she could slaughter without breaking a sweat if she was so inclined. The man beside her clears his throat._

_"I understand that you wished to speak to me, young lady."_

_The girl nods, turning to meet the man's gaze with her own. She watches him closely, wanting to see what his reaction will be upon his first full-on look at her strange eyes. Will he shrink from her? Order the demon child away from him? Attack her?_

_He does nothing. Perhaps his eyes narrow slightly; no other movement is made on his part._

_The girl is not one to mince words. "My master was murdered by the Shinsengumi. I wish to join your army so that I might avenge him."_

_Katsura blinks at her._

_"I have no care for the Ishin Shishi, but the Shinsengumi is allied with the Shogunate. If joining the Ishin Shishi gives me a way to spill Shinsengumi blood, then so be it."_

_Katsura does not reply for a long moment, and the two sit together in silence for a time._

_"What is your name, young lady?"_

_The girl eyes him. "My parents never gave me a name. They sold me into slavery around the age of five, to rid themselves of the child with the demon eyes. My master called me Midori."_

_"Midori-san, please listen. It would be a terrible move for me to put you in the regular army. You are not a man. Although from what the commander told his young messenger, you have great skill. However, no matter the level of your skill, if I were to put you in the ranks of the regular army, my soldiers would see your presence as an insult. They might try to kill you, or do worse things to you. Would you take such a risk with your own saftey?"_

_"Yes." There is no hesitation in Midori's answer. Her life means little to her; aside from which, none of those fools who catcalled and jeered at her has the least chance of putting so much as a scratch on her. She can take care of herself._

_Katsura sighs, rubbing the knuckles of one hand with the fingers of the other._

_"Well, you might be brave enough to risk that, Midori-san, but I find that such a situation sits uneasily with me. I cannot in clear conscious let you join the regular army. I would be responsible for anything the men might do to you."_

_Midori says nothing. If this man is to refuse her, then she will cut off her hair, bind her chest, and come back to the training camp as a young man wishing to fight with the Ishin Shishi. She will do whatever she must to have a chance to kill more of the men responsible for her Myoushu's murder. She makes ready to stand and depart, but Katsura holds a hand out to her, stopping her._

_"Please wait, Midori-san. I cannot put you with the regular army. However, I do have a proposition to make to you."_

* * *

That proposition, Midori thought somewhat bitterly as she lay on the riverbanks in Tokyo sixteen years later, ended up putting her in much greater peril from both her enemies and her so-called allies than if Katsura had just let her join the damn army.

* * *

_It is the night of Midori's first assignment._

_She stands in a dank little back-alley deep in the heart of Kyoto, as far into shadow as the full moon will allow. She would have preferred cloud cover or the night of a new moon, but she already knew better than to suggest such. Her commanders - which did not include Katsura and who all fully expected her to die tonight - would think she wanted to get out of the assignment all together. They would say that she is not cut out for this business, as they said when Katsura placed her under their command._

_They have shooed her out tonight with disdain, telling her not to return without the head of her target._

_The rustle of feet against stone reaches her ears. Someone approaches her position. Three men, perhaps four. Midori presses herself against the wall at her back, insuring that she cannot be seen, and waits._

_It is four men that walk cautiously down the alley, passing right by her without a glance or a hitch in their steps. All four are heavily armed, as is the norm in Kyoto these days. Midori's green eyes zero in on her target: the slim, tall man who walks in the center of a triangular formation, his companions acting as guards for him. At his waist sits both a katana and the wakizashi most samurai wear as it's companion blade. A quick scan in the moonlight reveals that the other three carry the same weapons._

_Midori waits until they have all passed before stepping out into the alley. "Riku Komogura?"_

_The men turn as one, hands going to the hilts of their katanas in an instant. They see her standing behind them, see her weapons at her hip, and then their eyes sweep her face and register that she is a female. They hesitate._

_"What business do you have with me, girl?" The thin man is the one who speaks, identifying himself as her target. Midori waists no more time with words. In one movement she has pulled her katana from it's sheath; in another she has blown right in between the two men who form the rear of the triangular formation and pierced the target's neck from front back._

_The guards stare. The target heaves blood into Midori's face as he tries to breath with a severed windpipe. Midori pulls her blade sideways out of the target's neck, leaving his head to hang by an inch or two of skin on the opposite side, and lunges low at the point guard's knees. A clean hard sweep cuts them off at the knees; she stabs her blade through his eye as he falls towards her._

_The other two guards are coming at her now, coming from behind over the body of the target. One comes in from her left, his katana poised to pierce her through the shoulder; the other advances with the same stance and the same hit point from the right. An instant before they will skewer her between them, Midori leaps into the air, only to descend a moment later onto the flats of the two blades, buried near to the hilt in their counterpart's owners. The two had gathered too much momentum coming at her and had not had enough time to stop before they pinned each other. Midori whirls in a crouched circle on top of their stuck blades and takes both of their heads off, leaping clear at the corpses collapse underneath her._

_She has wiped the blood from her blade on the white hakama of one of the bodies and is trying to get some of the spat-up blood off of her face when she hears more footsteps approaching from her rear. She melts again into the shadows against the alley's walls, her blade ready to do her bidding._

_"Girl? Are you alive? Girl?" It is the voice of one of her 'handlers', the men who will come to her slaughters after she is finished to verify that her victims are indeed dead. She steps out of the shadows in front of the man, registers his companions as she resheaths her blade. She resumes wiping at her face with the back of her hands; the sticky blood is drying slightly, the tightness uncomfortable on her skin._

_Behind her, as they lean over the bodies, her handlers whisper amoungst themselves. She ignores them, gives up on getting all of the blood off of her face. She pulls the wakizashi from it's sheath, startling the handlers as she steps up to the body of the actual target. A quick slice parts his nearly severed head from his body, and she reaches down to grab the head by the topknot. She turns to walk away._

_After a few steps, Midori pauses, considering. She pivots and walks back to the bodies._

_An hour later, she pushes the shoji of her commander's study open and deposits on the carpet all four heads of the men she slew this night. She can hear the commander gagging as she walks away..._

* * *

Her first day on the job, so to speak, and her allies were already learning to fear her. In hindsight, Midori supposed that the later fear was at least partly her fault.

* * *

_"Gomen, may I ask you a question, onee-san?" The inn's hostess and her girls are feeding the men; Midori sits outside on the porch in the courtyard, away from the rude whispers and the unwelcome looks. The hostess has sent one of the girls out with a meal for her, and the girl is currently pouring Midori a cup of hot tea. She watches Midori demurely from underneath her lowered eyelids._

_"Ask."_

_"What is the name that the gentlemen inside have begun to call you?"_

_Midori takes the cup of tea from the girl without answering, a frown carved deep into the features of her face. A month has passed since that night of her first assignment. She has not had a night without killing since. She interacts little with the men of the Ishin Shishi, occasionally eating with them or drinking sake in the dining hall whether it is empty or not. They avoid her, and she ignores them for the most part. She does not understand the girl's question._

_"They have a name for me?" she asks, glancing at the girl where she sits waiting to take Midori's dishes back inside. The girl hesitates for a moment before nodding._

_"I hear them talking, sometimes," the girl whispers, moving closer to Midori so that no one will overhear. "None of the men know your name. They say that your handlers have given you a nickname, onee-san, so that they would have something to call you by. They have not told you?"_

_Midori shakes her head. "They despise me. They would not care to speak to me."_

_The girl looks appalled. "But you fight with them. You are their ally."_

_Midori says nothing, more interested in finishing her meal than soothing the girl or pointing out the these men see her only as an interloper. She finishes the food in silence and watches as the girl walks away._

_That night, after her targets have been slain, she retreats into the shadows and waits until her handlers arrive to check the bodies. She speaks to them from her hiding place, startling them badly._

_"What is the name that you have given me?"_

_The men look at each other, as though unsure if they should answer. Midori waits quietly. One of the men turns in her general direction._

_"It wasn't us, girl. It's what we've heard the Shinsingumi are calling you."_

_Midori's eyes narrow at the sound of that name. She was killed many of those men, at night when her assignments are completed and she had no wish to sleep. They are everywhere in this blood-soaked city, prowling like the wolves others call them as they search for members of the Ishin Shishi to kill. She has not forgotten what was done to her Myoushu; she will never forget. Any who wear the uniform of the Shinsengumi are targets to her. Sometimes she leaves one alive, crippled near to the point of death and wallowing in pain from the things that she does to them. Once, her commanders attempted to chastize her for her extracurricular activities. Midori ignored them; nothing more has been said about the subject._

_Until now._

_"What do the Shinsingumi call me, that you have repeated amoungst yourselves but have not told me?" she asks her handlers, stepping from the deep shadows with a hand on the hilt of her katana; just on the chance that they need a little...persuasion to answer her._

_They do not require persuasion. "They are calling you Zetsumei Kurohyou. It's all over Kyoto, that there is a killer in the Ishin Shishi's ranks who is a woman that moves like a hunting cat with the blackest hair and...well, unnaturally green eyes."_

_Zetsumei Kurohyou..._

* * *

How she came to hate that name! Midori scowled at nothing, remembering the sound of that name made into a mocking sneer. She scowled at the memory of the men who had betrayed her, tortured her, would have killed her because of that name and the fame that had come with it; fame she had not asked for or wanted.

Only Kenshin had known her real name. Only with Kenshin did she get a reprieve from the hatred.

* * *

_"Can I ask you a question, ninjin?"_

_Midori is leaning against a support beam on the porch in the inn's courtyard, a jug of sake dangling from her hand. She shifts, wincing slightly as the wound in her thigh pulls against her sloppily done stitches. Beside her, her companion snorts._

_"You should have let me stitch you up, kabu. Every time you stitch yourself, you make a horrible mess of yourself. How did that happen?"_

_Midori rolls her eyes to the pinkening sky, used to her friend Kenshin's insane worry over her physical well-being, as well as his convulted speech patterns when tipsy. She ignores his question, as she usually does when he asks it, and repeats her own. "Can I ask you a question, ninjin?"_

_Kenshin, the feared Himura Battousai who's name is just as shrouded with blood and mystery as her own, lets out a long-suffering sigh. "I suppose, if you must, kabu."_

_"I was just wondering...why did you approach me, that night when we met? Most everyone here is afraid of me or dislikes me. Hell, if they didn't...I don't suppose that fiasco at the hotel would have come to pass."_

_Kenshin waits for a moment before answering. Midori knows that it is because of the mention of her torture of several months previous; he is still wary of approaching that topic with her, and Midori is not one who jumps at the chance to discuss it. The nightmares still plague her sleep._

_"I suppose it was because I was lonely," Kenshin whispers after a silence that makes Midori distinctly uncomfortable. She turns to look at him at these words, surprised. Kenshin does not return her gaze, peering instead into the sake jug that he clutches in one hand._

_"It's...lonely, doing what we do, isn't it kabu? Everyone fears us, even our own allies. It was hard, during those first few months before we began speaking. It was hard to sit at the table with the men and have the seats to either side of me remain empty. It was hard to enter a room and have all conversations end immediately, all eyes watch me with fear as though any moment I would snap and massacre them all. It was just...hard."_

_Midori is silent. It is hard, she thinks to herself as she sits with Kenshin and continues drinking. It is hard to see fear in the eyes of everyone around you. It is hard to feel alone even amidst dozens of others._

_After a while, Kenshin begins speaking again, his voice low and his eyes far away._

_"I would hear the other speaking of you, from time to time. None of them knew your name, they all referred to you as 'her' or 'the girl'. They **hated** you, Midori. They were afraid of you, true enough, but above that fear was their hatred. They hated your fame, your skill, the fact of your gender. It was a personal affront to them that a girl could do this so much better than they could. I felt...connected to you, even though we had never met. I started looking for you, hoping to catch you one dawn before sleep or some night before we went on missions. I wanted to meet this girl that everyone was whispering about. I was hoping to find a sort of...kindred soul, I suppose; one who lived in this time of bloodshed, hated and feared by all, as I am. I just...wanted to feel less alone."_

_Midori tosses aside her empty sake jug, stretching in her seat and thinking of tonight, and the night of tomorrow, and the night after that; of all the nights of killing and being feared and being hated that stretched out like a never-ending road in front of her. She reached over and tugged gently on Kenshin's long red bangs, grinning at the indignant squawk this drew from her friend._

_"You act as though this will end tomorrow. It won't, ninjin; tomorrow our allies will still hate me. They will still be afraid of us both. We will still sully ourselves with blood and come back to this inn to drink and whine about nothing and delay the drop into nightmares as long as possible. And above all of that, Himura, we will still be friends..."_

* * *

And then everything had gone to hell. _She_ had come into the picture and screwed up everything.

* * *

_Midori eyes the figure coming down the stairs towards her. It is a woman, as demonstrated by the white kimono and the finely shaped hands. However, the face is blocked by the lightly swaying tower of food trays the woman is carrying. A delicate foot points it's toes downwards, feeling blindly for the next stair. Midori climbs up and takes the greater part of the trays into her own arms. _

_"Arigato." The woman - and it is a woman, a lady from the sound of her voice, the refined speech patterns an obvious give-away - moves back up a step to give Midori room to turn around. They descend the remainder of the stairs, met at the bottom by a few men. They smile at each other as though sharing some joke._

_"Hey, look at this, boys," one of them says, smiling crudely at the lady even as his eyes skitter nervously past Midori. "It's the Battousai's new woman. Did you make him happy last night, onna? Did you wear out that tireless killing machine?"_

_His words are offensive to the extreme and Midori growls at him in warning. He should know better than to speak of Kenshin like that around her, and did his mother never teach him the proper way to address a lady? His manners are abhorrent. The man takes a step away from the unknown woman, now eyeing Midori uneasily; his companions watch nervously._

_The unfamiliar woman breezes by down the hall, murmuring a polite 'excuse me' as she passes the three men. Midori hangs back long enough to give the three a warning look. She follows the woman into the back rooms of the inn, where the hostess and her girls clean the used dishes and linens and store the items that are not currently being used. The hostess looks up from her position on the floor, supervising as her girls clean and put away the dishes from breakfast. Surprise at seeing Midori registers in her eyes._

_"Onee-san," she murmurs gracefully; all of the women here address Midori as 'sister', using the form of the word that would denote that she is older than them even though all of them are actually older than her in age. "We missed you at breakfast. Shall the girls prepare you a meal?"_

_Midori shakes her head silently, moving to the diminishing pile of dirty dishes and setting her trays down. Wordlessly she rolls up her sleeves and pulls the wash bucket towards her. None of the women comment as she begins to wash the dirty dishes; they are used to it after nearly a year. A girl positions herself close by to dry the dishes once they have been washed._

_The unfamiliar woman sets her things down next to Midori's pile and moves as though to take the dish rag from Midori's hands. Midori stills, her knuckles white against the cloth and soap suds._

_"Oh, Tomoe-san, don't bother onee-san," the hostess calls, beckoning for the woman to come to her. "She sometimes helps us with the dishes in the mornings. She's fine. Come help me with this, please."_

_Much later, when the night's blood has been washed from her and she is sitting on the porch drinking with Kenshin, she remembers the words of the uncouthly rude men from this morning._

_"Did you bring a whore home with you last night?" she asks out of the blue; beside her, Kenshin chokes on his mouthful of sake._

_"Sh - she's not - a - whore," he gasps between coughs; Midori leans over to helpfully pound him between his shoulderblades until he can once again breath easily. He takes several deep breaths, glaring at Midori in a way that would have unmanned any one of their brave allies; Midori, however, is immune. "She's not my whore. Why would you say such a thing?"_

_Midori shrugs, secretly amused at how worked up Kenshin has gotten after one little question. "I was merely asking, not saying. Some men this morning called her your new woman. I thought I would mention it. It is not important."_

_Nothing more is said on the woman that night. Occasionally, Midori will see the woman around the inn, cleaning rooms or feeding the men or even cutting a placing fresh flower arrangements. They do not speak to each other. Sometimes she will hear the woman talking to Kenshin; she grins as Kenshin flounders to make conversation and the woman effortlessly stumps him at every turn._

_Once, the woman comes upon Midori when Midori is wrapping a wound. The woman offers to assist; Midori declines. Kenshin enters, Midori leaves, the woman follows with Midori's disgarded gi and a question about the nature of the relationship between Midori and Kenshin. Midori nearly makes herself sick laughing, not wanting to admit even to herself the feelings she harbors for her partner and friend when it is becoming increasingly obvious that Kenshin is falling for this other woman. Midori even pushes him towards her in their conversations later, wanting to make Kenshin happy even if it is with another woman._

_And then the world goes crazy and everything must be put on hold._

* * *

Midori rose from her place on the river banks, noting the time that had passed as she crouched at water's edge and cupped some of the cool liquid in her hands. She splashed her face repeatedly, as though that would stop the onslaught of memories that plauged her today. It did not; the memories continued to flow as swiftly as the river before her. She plopped back down and let her eyes drift closed once again.

* * *

_Kenshin bursts through the door of Midori's room, accompanied by the woman Tomoe, one of Kenshin's handler's, and one of Katsura's bodyguards._

_"Should you not be with Katsura?" she asks the guard as she rises to her feet, reaching immediately for her weapons. The man practically snarls at her._

_"Don't you tell me how to do my job, Zetsumei Kurohyou!" he yells, his topknot starting to unravel and giving him a somewhat demented look. Midori bristles angrily at the name, but Kenshin calls to her before she can reply._

_"Kabu, the meeting place was attacked. Someone has been leaking information to the Shogunates, they knew that the leaders would be meeting tonight and where the meeting would be held."_

_"And Katsura?" Midori asks, looking from Kenshin to the irate guard and back again._

_"He had not arrived yet when the attack accured. He is alive. He has sent word that he wants you out on the streets, since it is the Shinsengumi who are attacking and they already know of you."_

_The Shinsengumi. Midori straps her blades to her waist and makes to stride for the door, ready to kill as many of those bastards as she can find. Kenshin's hand gripping her sleeve draws her short._

_"Kabu, I'm leaving Kyoto."_

_Midori falters, turning sharply to face Kenshin with the questions burning in her eyes. "What?"_

_"Katsura wants me safetly out of the city. He doesn't know yet whether my identity has been compromised, and in the event that it hasn't he wants me in reserve for the future. He has arranged a safe house for myself and Tomoe-san outside of the city. I don't know how long I will be gone."_

_Midori struggles to take in what Kenshin is telling her. He is leaving. He is leaving Kyoto while she must stay._

_He is leaving her._

_There is no time now to dwell on that. Midori clasps Kenshin's arm briefly, trying to tell him many thing without words, and then she releases him and looks to Tomoe, who has stood silently beside them this whole time._

_"Take care of him, Tomoe-san," she orders gruffly, and then she is gone before Kenshin can protest._

* * *

Midori stares up at the darkening sky, remembering.

Remembering the chaos that had held Kyoto in it's grips for months.

Remembering the blood that had painted every street red.

Remembering the wounds she had recieved and the faces of the men she had killed.

Remembering her constant, nagging worry over Kenshin's safety and well-being.

And remembering the shattered man who returned to her, so many months later.

* * *

_Midori sits on the porch of a new inn, in a new courtyard, with Kenshin's head pillowed in her lap. He has cried himself to sleep, and now Midori has time to think._

_They have been killing people for over a year now. The war shows no sign of relenting soon, and a weight presses on Midori as she gazes at the red mass of hair that spills over her lap and tries to imagine Kenshin going out on battlefields instead of butchering people from the shadows. He will be in so much more danger; what if he is wounded, on some distant field while she remains in Kyoto as the shadow assassin? Who will clean his wounds for him? Who will sit and share drinks with him, make jokes and tell stories to lighten the burden his kills place upon his heart?_

_What if Midori needs Kenshin, or he needs her like he does tonight, and they cannot be there for each other?_

_Kenshin is hurting badly. He had loved that Yukishiro woman; Midori has been aware of that since before Kenshin admitted it to himself. He had loved her, and they had built a life together in their hiding place outside of the city where Midori had continued killing, and now she is dead and that life is in ruins._

_He says that he killed the Yukishiro woman. He says that she leapt between Kenshin and an opponent who wished to kill Midori's only friend, and that Kenshin's blade had killed them both. He blames himself for his love's death._

_But Midori can only run her hands softly through Kenshin's hair as he sleeps with his head on her lap, and curse the gods for killing the Yukishiro woman before Midori could get her hands on her. The woman wormed her way into Kenshin heart as a part of a plot to kill him. She lied to Kenshin about her true nature and self for months as he fell in love with her and built a life with her. She was weak enough to fall in love with the man she was supposed to hate, naive enough to hate him for killing someone she loved without ever meeting Kenshin, and stupid enough to trust her superiors - men all - when they gave her this little mission._

_Kenshin's katana has killed the Yukishiro woman by accident. She should never have gotten between Battousai and his target._

_Midori's katana would have killed the damn woman slowly, and it would have been on purpose._

* * *

Midori raised herself from the riverbanks and turned to walk back to the dojo. It had grown dark on her as she waded through her memories. She prowled the empty streets of Tokyo, eyes darting for a following shadow that shouldn't be there, or a figure on a rooftop watching her in the night. The feeling of being watched, which has plagued her in the recent past, was absent tonight. There was no one about.

Kenshin sat waiting for her on the dojo's porch when she vaulted the gates. The dojo was dark; the others having gone to bed some time before. Midori stretched out next to Kenshin on the porch and laid her head in his lap. His long, thin fingers worked the tie from her hair, buried themselves in the black mass and stroked softly at her scalp.

The crickets chirped, breaking the stillness of the night with their music.

"They know the story now?" Midori whispered, her eyes closed and her cheek nuzzling against Kenshin's thigh through his _hakama_.

"Yes."

"What happens now? What do you plan to do?"

Kenshin sighed; his body was slumped where he sat, leaning over her, and Midori felt his breath brush against her cheek.

"Now...we wait. Enishi said that he will attack in ten days. We wait until that day. We stay together. I will not allow any more people to be hurt because of me."

Midori repressed a snort. That was her lovable, stupid _ninjin_: always taking the blame for everything. If Midori wasn't so nice, she would tell him what she thought of this whole mess. She would tell him exactly what she thought of his long-dead wife, and her duplicity, and her little brother's 'jinchu'. She would tell him word for word what she would like to say to Enishi Yukishiro in regards to his late sister. But Midori knew that her words would do nothing but wound Kenshin terribly, and that was not what she would wish to do. So she held her tongue and said nothing.

"I will keep all of you safe," Kenshin whispered into her hair. Midori's hands moved to hold his head to hers.

"I will keep _you_ safe," Midori murmured, her hands fisting in the gorgeous red hair. "You can worry about the others. _You_, I will keep my eye on. _You_, I love too much to let die."

The sound of a _shoji_ sliding open interrupted them before Kenshin could reply. From the dark room beyond, a quiet voice called out.

"Midori-san? May I speak to you?" It was Kaoru's voice, and she did not sound happy.

Midori sat up, glancing questioningly at Kenshin. He looked just as bemused as she felt. What was Kaoru doing up this late at night? What could be so important that it could not wait until tomorrow? Midori shrugged at her friend and made her way to Kaoru's room, sliding the _shoji_ shut behind her for a little privacy. Megumi and the child Tsubame lay next to each other on their futons, both snoring lightly. Midori looked to Kaoru, arrayed in her sleeping _yukata_ with her hair in a long braid over one shoulder, biting at her lip nervously.

Midori tensed. Kaoru never bit her lip - not unless she were going to do something that may or may not piss Midori off or upset Kenshin. Kenshin couldn't handle an upset tonight, not if he had relieved his wife's death for his friends. She waited in silence, actually hoping for once that she was about to become unspeakably angry.

"Midori-san, Kenshin told us tonight about -"

"I am aware," Midori broke in swiftly; the shoji was thin and Kenshin's hearing strong. Kaoru grasped the end of her braid in her hand and fiddled with the hair, staring at a spot near Midori's feet. At last she spoke again, but the words were so soft that Midori almost missed them.

"Why didn't you stop her?"

Midori furrowed her brow. "Louder, please."

Kaoru slowly lifted her head to meet Midori's gaze, and the fire burning in Kaoru's eyes set Midori even more on edge. The girl appeared to be furious for some reason. Before Midori could inquire as to the cause of her anger, Kaoru began talking again.

"Why didn't you stop Tomoe-san from hurting Kenshin like that? You were there, right? In Kyoto while all of that was happening? So why did you not stop it from going the way it did?"

Midori stared at Kaoru, shocked beyond words at what she was hearing. Vaguely she registered the rise in the volume of Kaoru's voice, the mumbling from the doctor as she and the little girl were awakened. It was all in the periphrial; Midori was fixated on Kaoru's words as the girl continued.

"You were there with Kenshin, Midori." The usual suffix was conspicusiously abesent from the name. "You were there when he brought Tomoe-san to live with him. You were there as they lived with each other and Kenshin killed people and his boss pushed Tomoe-san towards him. Why didn't you stop it? Why didn't you see that she wasn't trustworthy? You could have saved Kenshin from the pain he's lived with all these years and instead you didn't do anything."

Midori's vision was starting to go red around the edges.

"Kaoru," Megumi barked, having caught enough of the monologue upon waking to understand the striken look on Midori's face. "Stop this at once. Don't blame Midori-san for something that wasn't her fault."

"But it was her fault!" Kaoru's voice was intolerably loud now as she spat the words at the doctor and turned her burning gaze back to Midori's frozen form. "It was your fault! You let Tomoe-san get close to Kenshin! You let Kenshin fall in love with Tomoe-san! You didn't go with them when they fled Kyoto into the mountain village! You weren't there when Enishi came to visit or when Tomoe-san left to save Kenshin! If you'd been there, if you'd cared enough for Kenshin to go with him instead of staying behind so you could murder more people, Tomoe-san wouldn't have died! Kenshin would be happy today instead of guilt-ridden, and Enishi wouldn't be trying to kill us all! This whole mess is your fault, Zetsumei Kurohyou, because you loved killing and bloodshed more than you loved Kenshin!"

The sound of her title from Kaoru Kamiya's lips snapped the last bit of restraint Midori possessed. She strode forward into the room, right up to Kaoru's fiercely glaring form, and backhanded the bitch hard across the face. Megumi and young Tsubame let out gasps of shock; Kaoru stumbled slightly, her head turned to the side from the force of the blow and a trickle of blood visible on her chin where her split lip was leaking. Midori ignored all of this. One hand shot out to fist in the front of Kaoru's _yukata_ and Midori hoisted the girl up only to slam her back against the nearest wall. Kaoru let out an _umph_ of pain as her back and the wall connected, and Midori was right there in her face before she could think to move. Her free hand clamped down on Kaoru's slim throat and squeezed, choking the girl.

Midori's eyes glowed green with her rage.

"How _dare_ you?" she hissed, spittle leaping from her mouth to Kaoru's reddening face. "_How dare you? _How dare you judge me, bitch? How dare you lay blame at my feet? How dare you question my feelings? Are you a god, bitch? Are you all-seeing? Were you there when these events you blame me for occured? Were you there with us?"

Hands were tugging ineffectually at her clothing from behind; voices were shouting at her to let go, to stop, to step away. Midori ignored them all, tightening her grip on Kaoru's throat. The girl gagged.

"Say your words again," Midori crooned, leaning close to speak in Kaoru's ear as the bitch struggled to draw air into her lungs. "Say your words again. Give me the reason to snap this neck I hold as though it were a twig. Let me pretend that you are Tomoe Yukishiro. Let me do to you what I would like to have done to her. Say your words again."

And then someone was wretching her away from Kaoru, pulling her snarling form backwards and prying her hand from Kaoru's throat. Kaoru fell to the floor, coughing and sucking in lungfuls of air as two different sets of hands dragged Midori back and out of the room. She struggled against them, wanting to make Kaoru hurt for what she had said, wanting to hurt her as badly as Midori was hurt by her words and accusations.

In moments Midori was facedown in the courtyard and two different voices were screaming in her ears as two different bodies pinned her down.

"_Kabu_! Stop! Stop this!"

"What the hell, Midori! Calm down already! What the hell were you doing to Jou-chan?"

Over the voices and the yelling and her own snarls, the sound of a child's tears pierced the furious haze in Midori's head. She snapped her gaze back to the room she had just been dragged out of and froze.

Tsubame was crying.

Tsubame was huddled in a corner, across the room from where Megumi knelt by a hacking Kaoru, and she was crying; tears dripped in a river from her cheeks to her sleeping _yukata_.

Midori had made that sweet little girl cry.

She ceased to fight her captors, lying still underneath them as words washed over her. None of it made any difference to Midori; none of the words infiltrated the barrier around her mind or heart. Nothing mattered right now except the terrified look on sweet little Tsubame's face, and the gnawing, burning need to get away from Kaoru Kamiya before her blood coated Midori's blade.

After a time, Midori was hauled to her feet, Kenshin gripping one arm and Sanosuke the other. Midori ignored them, staring at the still-huddled form of the sobbing little girl.

"Let go of me."

Neither of the men complied with her demand.

"I'm done. I will not stay with that bitch anymore. I'm leaving. Let go of me. _Now_."

Instead of doing as she commanded, Kenshin and Sanosuke frog-marched her between them to the training dojo, shutting the doors behind them before releasing her and positioning themselves between her and the door. Midori turned her back on them, stalking to the center of the dojo and folding herself to sit on the floor facing away from them. She took her sheathed katana off of her back and threw it away from her, too angry right then to trust herself with it so near.

No one said anything for a long moment.

"_Kabu_."

Midori flinched against the nickname.

"What were you doing?"

"Choking her." Midori's voice was flat, dead; she was keeping all of her emotions locked tightly away inside herself.

"Why?"

Midori said nothing.

"He asked you a question, Midori." This time from Sanosuke, who sounded as angry as Midori had ever heard him. Kaoru was like a sister to Sanosuke, and he did not take it lightly when she was hurt.

Midori turned her head to look at the two men from one green, furious eye, unaware that in the moonlight of the dark dojo her eye was glowing brightly. "Because I am angry enough to break the bitch's neck. If you had not interfered she would be dead."

She proceeded to turn her head back forwards and ignore them, seething internally at the horrible things Kaoru had said to her. How dare she? How was Midori to have known that Tomoe Yukishiro was part of a plot to kill Kenshin? How could she have kept Kenshin from falling in love - she was not a god, she could not influence men in such a way. She had wanted more than anything to go with Kenshin when he had left Kyoto; she stayed behind because she was ordered to, not for the joy of killing. Tomoe's death was not Midori's fault. Enishi's jinchu was not Midori's fault.

This was _not_ her fault, by all the gods. This was _not_ her fault.

Midori flinched and tried to pull away when an arm went around her back, Kenshin crouching down next to her with concern on his face. Midori jerked away from him and stood, heedless of the tears that were spilling steadily down her cheeks.

This was not her fault. _This was not her fault._

Midori bowled Sanosuke over and tore the door from it's hinges as she bolted from the training dojo. In seconds she had leapt the outer walls and was sprinting away, _katana_ forgotten behind her.

_This was not her fault._

* * *

A/N: Review please.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

Enishi hides at a distance, upwind on the other side of the slowly moving river, and watches the woman sob quietly and shoot blood-curling glares at the waters by turns. There is a burning anger in his chest that has resided there for fifteen years, and the sight of that strong woman brought so low, as his sister was brought low, makes the burning feel even hotter. Another reason to remove her from the Battousai's presence. She may even learn to thank Enishi for what he is soon to do.

He is unsure why exactly he is here, crouching uncomfortably in a blooming cherry tree so that she will not see him and watching her with an intensity that would frighten some. He has other things that he should be doing; last minute preparations to make for his Jinchu. There are only eight days left now. He smiles at this thought and closes his eyes eagerly, wanting to see his _onee_-_sama's_ proud smile again. She will smile at Enishi and he will bask in her love, knowing that he is doing what she would have wanted him to do.

But she isn't smiling. Tomoe is frowning, her beautiful eyes filled with tears.

Enishi scowls; that is why he is here, of course, now he remembers. The previous night, he had spied the woman darting through the empty streets of Tokyo. He had been preparing to leave, to retreat to his island and wait for the day of Jinchu. But no, he had seen the woman, had seen her tears and the stricken look upon her thin face. He had nearly walked away; he didn't care anything about the woman, and her problems were not of his concern. He had turned away, and closed his eyes to update his _onee_-_sama_ on how well his plans were progressing; surely his _onee_-_sama_ wanted to know that he was so close now to exacting revenge for her. Enishi had closed his eyes, a smile of anticipation and love on his face – and nearly fallen to his knees in shock and despair at the sight of his beloved Tomoe, crying silently behind his eyelids.

For whatever reason, the woman's sorrow is upsetting Tomoe. Enishi wants to see his _onee_-_sama_ smile again, wants the tears gone from her eyes. And so he adjusts his position in the cherry tree, his now-open eyes seeking out the woman's hunched form on the opposite banks.

As he watches, as the sun sinks lower and lower and the day wears on, Enishi ponders the source of the woman's sorrow. What could possibly have happened in the previous two days that would bring the woman this level of grief? Enishi knows that the Battousai is not dead; had that happened he would have been informed immediately. What else, then? What will he have to do to return the smile to Tomoe's face?

He has noticed that the woman was moving stiffly earlier, as he followed her mad dash to this river. Has she been injured? Could that be part of her problem? From Enishi's memories of her two days ago, when he confronted the Battousai on that little bridge further up the river in town, she had looked somewhat the worse for wear. Perhaps she was hurt by the cannon blast that destroyed that imbecile of a police chief's home?

But from what Enishi has been told about this woman, she is first and foremost a warrior. She has suffered nearly fatal wounds at the hands of her own comrades more than once; surely a few bruises would not been sufficient to cause tears.

"Shut up!"

The scream is ripped from the woman's throat, a hoarse cry somewhere between a plea and an order. There is no one visible around her position, or for as far as Enishi can see. Who, then, is the woman talking to?

Enishi wonders if perhaps she is insane, like her late partner Makoto Shishio was reported to be.

Without warning, the woman is suddenly on her feet and moving, running at near-impossible speeds away from Enishi's position. Enishi stares after her for a moment, undecided as to what he should do. She is usually cautious to the point of near-paranoia; Enishi doubts that he will get very close to her before she realizes he is near. On the other hand, she is out and about unarmed for whatever reason, and when Enishi closes his eyes again, Tomoe is still crying silent tears from her soft brown eyes.

Enishi jumps from the tree and takes off in the direction the woman had just disappeared.

He wants his sister to smile again.

* * *

Midori sat hunkered around her knees, which she was presently hugging to her chest, and glared ferociously at the river. If a pair of eyes could generate heat, Midori's glare would have the entire river dried up for miles. She smacked at her face, angrily trying to rid herself of the unwanted tears that would not stop falling from her puffy eyes. She was shocked that she had any more tears; she'd been crying steadily all damn day and it was once again sunset. How long was this going to continue?

It was that bitch's fault. It was Kaoru's fault. Midori wanted to wring that chit's scrawny neck for the words that would not leave the forefront of Midori's mind. They repeated over and over, echoing in her ears no matter how hard she pressed her hands over them. She could not block the words out; they were not coming from outside anymore.

_You were there, Midori._

Midori flinched, squeezing her eyes shut.

_You were there when he brought Tomoe-san to live with him. You were there when they lived together and Kenshin killed people and his boss pushed Tomoe-san towards him._

She knew that, damn it! Did that stupid child think for one instant that Midori didn't remember seeing that lying, two-faced woman for the first time? How was she ever going to forget that when Kenshin had that damn scar carved into his face because of that woman?

_Why didn't you stop it?_

What the hell kind of question was that? Just how was Midori supposed to have stopped Kenshin from falling in love? Did Kaoru think her a god, who could meddle with a person's feelings so easily? Or was it a demon Kaoru pictured when she looked at Midori, with her unnatural green eyes and the almost slit-like pupils?

_Why didn't you see that she wasn't trustworthy?_

They had all been duped! All the men, the serving girls at the inn, the hostess, even Katsura for _kami's_ sake! How was Midori to know what the woman had planned? Didn't Kaoru think that Midori had tortured herself with hindsight after Kenshin returned without Yukishiro? Didn't Kaoru think that Midori was torturing herself now, when this Enishi was coming for the man she loved with this jinchu, and Midori might have been able to stop all of this from happening?

_You could have saved Kenshin from the pain he's lived with all these years and instead you didn't do anything._

"Shut up!"

Birds in a tree nearby startled at the shout and took to the air, flying away from the disturbance. Midori didn't see them; she had buried her head in her knees and was hugging her legs fiercely, shaking as she held in the sobs that wanted to break free.

It wasn't her fault, by all the gods. It was _not_ her fault. She couldn't possibly have known that the Yukishiro woman was an ally of the Shogunate. She had no way of stopping Kenshin from falling in love with her. And she had not remained in Kyoto after he fled with the woman because she wanted to - she stayed under orders. Not because she 'loved killing and bloodshed more than Kenshin.'

Did Kenshin think that as well? Did he blame her for Tomoe's death?

Did he actually hate her, when she thought that he loved her?

The voice of Kaoru was replaced in her head with the sounds of a child's sobs. Tsubame's sobs. Tsubame, who was always so shy around Midori, so quiet, huddled in a corner and sobbing in fear of Midori's actions.

A child, terrified of Midori.

Midori threw herself to her feet, running before she was completely upright. She wanted out. She wanted to outrun the sound of Kaoru's voice hurling blame at her. She wanted to outrun the memories of Tsubame's tears. She was done with Tokyo. She was done living in one place. She should have known better than to stay here with Kenshin. Nothing good ever came of Midori's settling down.

The hairs on the back of Midori's neck stood on end as she raced through the emptying streets of Tokyo. Midori spat out a curse, flinging herself into the nearest alley and scaling the wall beside her so that she stood on the roof of a building, out of the innocent people making their way home. She took off over the rooftops, swearing steadily to herself when the hair failed to relax. She was being followed. And her damn _katana_ was still at the Kamiya Dojo. _Shit_.

She led her pursuer a merry chase, zigzagging around the rooftops of Tokyo until her chest was heaving and her muscles started to ache. Midori scowled, sprinting to the edge of the roof she was on and leaping down to the alley below. It had grown dark; the alley was lined with shadows, and Midori melted backwards into them, waiting for her pursuer to appear.

When a tall, white-haired shadow dropped to the alley just in front and to the left of her, Midori upped the internal cursing. She should never have left the dojo unarmed. Damn Kaoru for upsetting her to the point of stupidity.

Well, fuck it. If she was going to be stupid, she may as well do a proper job of it.

"I will warn you now," she growled from her shadowed spot against a shop's wall. "I am in a very bad mood and have never made a vow against killing the way the Battousai has."

Enishi Yukishiro turned to face her, his cold eyes finding her with unnerving ease in spite of the lack of light. A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth, even as he spread his own hands out to his sides to indicate that he was also unarmed. Midori made no move to approach him; he was doubtlessly very strong in the physical sense, and after nearly being blown up two nights before Midori was in no shape to fight hand-to-hand – that is, unless she wanted to be beaten.

"And why is the Battousai's pet panther roaming the streets without her leash?" His voice was calm, almost flat; it belied the somewhat crazy gleam that seemed to dance across his eyes as he stared at her. Loath though she was to admit it, this Enishi was somewhat… intimidating to Midori.

Damn, but she wished for her _katana_.

"I am no one's pet," she replied, wincing at her raspy voice. Too long without a drink had left the inside of her mouth and the back of her throat as dry as sandpaper.

"Not a very well taken-care-of pet, it seems. Although I suppose this is an improvement for you and the Battousai; at least he hasn't tried to kill you again." The smirk broadened visibly, showing a flash of brilliant white teeth in the darkness. "Not yet, anyway."

Midori made no attempt to reply. When Enishi moved, stepping closer to her in the narrow alley, Midori immediately leapt away, seeking the relative safety of the rooftops where she would have more room to maneuver. Enishi followed her without the slightest pause.

"Why do you run?" he asked, advancing on her across the rooftop where she crouched.

"That is an incredibly stupid question," Midori shot back, her muscles tensing tighter and tighter for every forward step Enishi took.

"You are worried that I mean to attack you? Don't be; I am not here to do you harm. I have no quarrel with you, Zetsumei Kurohyou."

Midori snorted at that; her throbbing ribs, along with various and sundry other bruises dotting her body, begged to differ with his claim. Enishi continued speaking as though she had not made a sound.

"Why were you crying?"

Midori stared at him, only then becoming aware of the wetness on her cheeks. She brought up a hand to rub furiously at her face, absurdly embarrassed that anyone was seeing her in such a vulnerable state. Damn Kaoru for making her cry like a child. Damn this man for being rude enough to say something about it.

When Midori failed to answer, Enishi took another step and crouched before her on the roof, hands held palm-up to the sides.

"Honestly, Zetsumei Kurohyou, I do not care. But your sorrow…distresses my sister. Anything that causes her distress must be rectified immediately. I cannot make her smile unless I know why you are crying."

This man was _insane_.

"Tomoe Yukishiro," she rasped, the words dredged from her hoarse throat in a low growl, "is **_dead_**. She is incapable of sorrow or happiness. It is not possible for her to disapprove of my feelings on any matter, and frankly, if your sister were still alive, I would take great pleasure in killing her myself. But _she_ _is_ _dead_."

For a prolonged moment Enishi said nothing; Midori assumed that he would now grow enraged with her for reminding him of his loss and for saying – in more or less words – that she wished that she had been the one to end his sister's life. She tensed even further, ready to spring away the instant Enishi made a move in her direction.

"You're right."

Midori flinched.

"My sister is dead, in the way that a corpse is dead. Your beloved Battousai saw to that."

Those cold eyes sought her own, as one of his hands moved to lay itself over his heart.

"But her spirit is here, Zetsumei Kurohyou. I carry my sister's spirit in my heart; she is with me every moment of every day. No one – not you or the Battousai or the gods themselves – can take that from me."

_Insane_.

Enishi edged closer, causing Midori to move backwards until she was perched on the very edge of the roof.

"I am leaving Tokyo until the day I plan to make the Battousai pay for killing my sister. I want my sister to smile at me during the time in between, not shed tears because she is too kind-hearted and is sad for you. Tell me what caused you to cry, and I will fix it to please my sister."

Slowly, taking pains not to appear threatening, Enishi moved the hand that had been pressed to his heart until it was held out towards Midori, as though in an invitation for her to trust him. A tiny, nearly undetectable spark of warmth appeared in his cold eyes, and the harsh plains of his face softened slightly for a moment. He sat there, waiting for Midori's reply.

Midori looked from his face to his outstretched hand and back again.

"Go to Hell, Yukishiro. I would no sooner confide in you that I would have confided in your lying bitch of a sister before she got herself killed."

The spark of warmth died a violent death and the plains of Enishi's face turned to stone in an instant.

"And the next time you indulge in your insanity, feel free to tell your sister's ghost that I warmly invite her to take her fucking concerns and stuff them up her –"

With a snarl Enishi launched himself towards Midori, outstretched hand grasping at thin air as Midori threw herself backwards off the roof. She flipped once in midair and came to land on her feet, the contact with the ground jarring her tender ribs horribly and causing her to gasp for breathe. Enishi did not give her time to recover; he was off the roof and directly in front of her in an instant, one leg swinging forward as he kicked at her. Midori dodged, rolling away from Enishi and coming to her feet facing towards him.

"Don't dare to speak of my sister in such a manner!" he raged, the cords in his slim neck buldging just under the skin as he shouted at her. "You are nothing compared to my _onee_-_sama_! Nothing!"

Midori said nothing, staying tensed on her feet watching his every twitch. He would be very, very dangerous right now; if he got his hands on her, there was little doubt that he would do his level best to kill her. A silent thanks flew through Midori's head that he did not appear to have a weapon.

As suddenly as the rage had exploded outwards, it seemed to draw in on itself once again. One moment, Enishi was almost literally foaming at the mouth; the next, composure slid over his face like a mask over the face of an actor. In seconds he stood before Midori as though he were any other non-homicidal man in the world. All traces of the former maniac were erased.

"But I shouldn't become angry at you," he said, quite pleasantly; the calm had returned to his face, and his smooth voice was soft and gentle. "I'm sure the Battousai has poisined your mind towards Tomoe; I can't even guess what he might have told you to justify his murder of her. Your ignorance is not your fault."

"My ignorance is non-existant," Midori returned, just as calmly but nowhere near as gently. "I know exactly how your sister died. It does not change my opinion of her."

A muscle twitched in Enishi's jaw, but he said nothing in reply.

Midori took a moment to gather her bearings, taking note of her surroundings and figuring out where exactly she was in relation to the dojo. She needed to get away from this man. He was obviously barking mad, and she was unsure how much longer he would remain calm before he attacked her. Without her _katana_, Midori was in no shape to fight him and win.

Kenshin was going to have _kittens_ about this whole damn encounter.

"While this has been an infinitly entertaining conversation," Midori drawled, sketching a bow as best she could with her throbbing ribs, "I think it may be time to make my exit. I dislike being around the mentally deranged."

"Like repels like, I suppose."

Midori glared at him. "I am not insane. I do not speak to dead family members whose images reside in my head."

"So you were shouting at the birds by the river to shut up, were you?"

Damn, how long had he been watching her?

Enishi smiled coldly, folding his arms over his chest as he cocked his head to the side. "Witnessing my sister's murder is what twisted me, Zetsumei Kurohyou. What was it that twisted you?"

_Life_. Midori bit her tongue hard to keep the word inside her mouth. She did not owe an explanation to this man.

Instead of an answer, she replied with a very rude and unladylike hand gesture.

In the next instant she was on the rooftops once again, sprinting for all she was worth in the direction of the dojo, Kenshin, and the _katana_ she was never going anywhere without ever again.

* * *

Enishi watches the woman retreat. He has no intention of following her this time; she will be heading for that dojo, back to her master Battousai. The monster has obviously warped her thinking until she cannot see what he is; Battousai is _kami_ to her, while all his enemies deserve death. What a sad woman she is.

He turns away from her quickly fading back, mind going instead to what he had planned to do hours ago. He needs to leave this city, get away from the stench of corruption that offends his very nostril each time he draws breath. He will go to his island, and enjoy the anticipation of revenge while breathing air that does not disgust him.

As he walks away, the fleeting thought that the woman had smelled of orange blossoms drifts unimpeded throught his mind.

Many, many hours later, after a brief meeting with his six 'comrades' and a picked-at meal of unappetizing food, Enishi settles outside on his private balcony, a blanket thrown over his legs, and lets his mind go back to Zetsumei Kurohyou.

Death Panther. Enishi wonders if she is proud of that name, or if she secretly hates the reminder of the lives she has ended. Women are the gentle sex, after all; in all likelihood, the woman hates the name just as much as Enishi is sure she actually hates the Battousai.

He wonders at the kind of childhood this woman must have lived, to have forcefully volunteered to join the ranks of murderers and then made a name for herself among them. Where were her parents when she began walking this path? Who was it that taught her the art of killing with a _katana_? So many unanswered questions about the woman; she is a figure shrouded in heavy shadow, making her all the more interesting to Enishi. He wants to know more about this woman.

He wants to know why Tomoe is sad for her.

Taking a deep breath, Enishi closes his eyes and winces at the sight of his _onee_-_sama's_ beautiful face. The tears from before have stopped, but there is a look of such devastation upon her visage that Enishi feels physically ill.

"I'm sorry, _onee_-_sama_, I tried." Surely his _onee_-_sama_ would not be angry at him? Enishi had tried to help the woman, only to be rudely rebuffed and run from. He could not do anything for someone who would not let him.

A small, fleeting smile, devoid of it's usual peace if not of it's love, appeared and then vanished from Tomoe's lips.

Not angry with him, then, but still horribly upset. Enishi jerked in his chair, part of his mind insisting that he return to Tokyo immediately and force the wretched woman to let him help her with whatever her problem was; another part wanted to return to Tokyo for the sole purpose of killing the bitch who put that devastated look on his _onee_-_sama's_ face. No one should _ever_ cause Tomoe pain.

He forced himself to relax, staying in the chair. He would not go anywhere. He would return to Tokyo in just over seven days and he would see the woman then. If his sister was still displeased, he would rectify the problem after he exacted his Jinchu on that bastard the Battousai.

* * *

"Why did you _leave_?"

Midori flinched, her hands fisting tightly in the cloth of her _hakama_. Rarely had she ever seen Kenshin this angry, and even rarer had that anger been directed at her.

_At least he hasn't tried to kill you again. Not yet, anyway._

Midori forcefully blocked out the words whispering in her ears, concentrating instead on those being shouted at her from a few feet away. Kenshin was pacing back and forth in the training dojo, the doors shut against the outside world and the curious or fearful looks of their friends. Inside, the tension was so thick Midori half-wondered if she could cut it with a knife.

"You attacked Kaoru-dono in her own home! You risked injuring Sano when you carelessly ran over him in your flight! You were gone for a _full_ day, _unarmed_, and none of us knew where you were!" Kenshin fumed, glaring at her from under his red hair. Amber flashed in and out of his eyes, leading credence to the assumption that he was royally pissed.

He abruptly ceased his pacing and stalked over to stand before her, looming above her kneeling figure like some kind of avenging god of old.

"Explain yourself, Midori," he commanded coldly, nearly hissing the words at her.

Midori took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself down and keep a tight hold on her growing temper at the same time. She was gripping her _hakama_ so tightly with her hands to stop from lashing out that her knuckles were white and the fabric was in danger of tearing. She glared up at Kenshin through her own bangs, gritting her teeth to keep from screaming at him in anger.

"Are you finished yelling?" Her voice was low, lethal; Kenshin was pushing her very, very close to the edge of her restraint.

In an instant Kenshin was crouched in front of her, one hand gripping her upper left arm just the wrong side of too tightly with his face barely an inch from hers.

"Do not backmouth me right now, Midori," and the sound of her name repeated by him in anger did nothing for her temper, "because I am _not_ in the mood. Explain yourself. _Now_."

Really angry now, Midori attempted to tear her arm from Kenshin's grip and let out a snarl when she failed. "Let go of me right now."

"Talk to me."

"Let go, Himura!"

Kenshin released her at once, flinching back as she scooted away from him across the polished dojo floors. He stared at her, the amber disappearing and leaving pale lavender in it's place, as she massauged her sore arm with a scowl on her face. She turned her head away from him, refusing in her anger to meet his gaze.

Midori had not referred to him as 'Himura' in over a year.

"…_Kabu_…"

"Oh, it's _kabu_ now, is it?" Midori snarled at the wall, her face heating with her anger. "Why don't you shut up for a while, and let me do the yelling! How does that sound**_, HIMURA_**!"

His screeched surname echoed loudly in the empty dojo, reverberating in their ears even as Midori raged on.

"I am not your fucking pet that you can rudely order about! I am not an animal to be caged and let out when it pleases you! I am my own person, perfectly capable of defending myself, and I will go wherever I damn well please!

"How dare you order me to account to you? How dare you put your hand on me in anger? What gives you the right, Himura? Because you are the man and I the woman? Because you are the great Battousai and I am just Zetsumei Kurohyou? Will you put your blade through me again if I disobey your orders?"

"_Kabu_-"

"NO!" Midori yelled, turning to pin Kenshin with a horrible glare; anger and despair vied for attention in her clouded green eyes, the tears building around the lower rims like water trying to overflow a dam. "I will speak, and you will shut your mouth and listen! You wanted your fucking answers, Himura, so I will give them to you!"

Kenshin promptly stopped talking. Midori turned away from him once again, moving both hands to again gather fistfuls of her _hakama_ so that she could try to reign in her temper slightly. She had not been so absolutely furious in a long time.

"I will not apologize for what I did to that bitch Kaoru," she spat after a moment's silence. "She deserved what she got, and I wouldn't hesitate to do it again. I will apologize to Sanosuke for knocking into him, I will apologize to Megumi-san and Tsubame-chan for frightening them, but I will _not_ apologize for my assault of Kaoru Kamiya, and I will _not_ apologize for leaving. I can leave whenever the hell I feel like leaving."

She glared at the wall again, breathing deeply and asking the gods to help her remain somewhat calm. Kenshin said nothing; Midori wondered if he were too afraid to break the silence. After another pause, Midori continued.

"Kaoru Kamiya made the asinine mistake of telling me that this jinchu shit is my fault. She is under the impression that if I had been a better friend to you, if I had loved you enough, if I hadn't been so fucking fond of bathing in the blood of my enemies and eating their hearts, I could have somehow kept you from falling in love with Tomoe Yukishiro. I am somehow responsible for that stupid woman's death and your subsequent heartache. I am the cause for Enishi Yukishiro's insane plan for jinchu. Everything that is befalling us is somehow because of my existance and my place in your life – at least, it is if you ask Kaoru Kamiya, who has magically gained inimate knowlegde of everything that happened between the two of us and Tomoe Yukishiro well over a decade ago in Kyoto. Apparently we are housed by a omnipresent goddess in the guise of a human bitch."

Midori hunched over, not bothering to muffle the furious growl that tore from her throat as Kaoru's words played once again in her head. That bitch was lucky to be alive.

Midori's body tensed as she realized that Kenshin had risen and was approaching her from behind. His hand settled for a moment on the small of her back, but Midori was quick to step away from him. Kenshin tried to follow, but stopped at once when Midori snarled at him.

"_Kabu_-"

"Don't," Midori commanded harshly, backing away from him and fighting the urge to tackle him at the same time. Her hands itched to wrap around his throat, but she did not want to hurt him in anger; she knew that she would regret it later.

Her face was cold; Midori swiped angrily at her cheeks, glaring at the wetness on her fingers as she wondered just when those stupid tears had spilled from her eyes. She tightened her self-control, refusing to completely break down in front of Kenshin when she was so furious with him. He did not get to see her cry tonight.

"I have nothing else to say to you," she spat quietly, fisting her hands so tightly at her side that she was in danger of cutting her palms. "I'm going to take a bath. Don't speak to me until I have calmed myself, or I will not be accountable for my actions."

Without another word, and without giving Kenshin the time to say anything, Midori turned and pivoted around the man she loved before storming from the training dojo in fury. She completely ignored everyone in the courtyard, making straight for the bathhouse and slamming the _shoji_ into place behind her. There was already bathing water set out in three buckets, as well as a tub full of water that was steaming from the fire underneath it's floor. A lump of soap and several towels waited nearby.

Midori tore off her _gi_ and _hakama_, yanked the tie from her hair, kicked off her sandals and ripped the _tabi_ from her feet, and began angrily unwinding the white bandaged that wrapped her torso from collarbone to smallest rib. Her dirty clothing was tossed carelessly to the floor, and Midori stomped to the closest bucket, picked it up, and dumped the water over her head.

The icy coldness of the liquid went a long way to cooling Midori's volcano of a temper, pushing it back down as she grabbed up the soap and rubbed it hard against her wet skin. Even cooled, Midori's rage was not gone by any means. She attacked her body with untoward ferocity, scrubbing brutally at her skin until it was red and sore. Her hair faired little better, the tangles jerked into order without thought of comfort when Midori ran her soap-lathered hands harshly through her midnight locks. The second bucket of water was upended so jerkily that the water seemed to leap from the container.

After punishing her clothing into cleanliness with the help of the extra bucket of water, Midori laid her things out to dry and climbed almost wearily into the hot tub of water. Sinking into the water, she let out a long sigh as the hot liquid began bathing her abused limbs. Hot water felt wonderful on her battered ribs and the other bruises she had amassed recently. Speaking of bruises, Midori glanced down at the arm which Kenshin had gripped and grimanced at the ugly purple handprint that was already beginning to form.

That carrot-headed jackass had marked her.

She was going to beat the shit out of him as soon as this jinchu crap was over and done with.

As she sank even further into the steaming bath, there came a knock on the _shoji_ that had Midori scowling fiercer than ever. What now? What could possibly be so important that it couldn't wait until she finished bathing?

"_Kabu_?"

Red tinted her vision for a fraction of a second. "Go. Away. Himura."

"But –"

"GO AWAY HIMURA."

No answer was offered, and Midori assumed that he had left. Reigning in her temper yet again, Midori sighed as she closed her eyes and let her head fall to rest against the edge of the large circular tub. She was physically and emotionally exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and so far beyond angry that she was surprised she could see straight. She did not want to deal with Kenshin at the moment. She wanted to soak for a while, find something to eat, and then sleep for the next week. It occurred to her that she should probably tell Kenshin about her conversation with Enishi Yukishiro, but she would wait to approach him until her anger had burned itself out. Nothing that had been said was very important, anyway.

In an effort to help her temper cool, Midori forced her mind off of how badly she wanted to brain both Kenshin and Kaoru. Instead she let it drift to the slightly less infuriating topic of Enishi.

That he was mentally disturbed was not something that Midori would question. The man talked to his dead sister, for _kami's_ sake. If that wasn't deranged then Midori didn't know the meaning of the word. His claim to want to help her made less than zero sense; she was the friend of his enemy, what reason could he possibly have to want to aid her? Because his dead sister didn't like to see Midori suffer? That was such a self-contridicting claim that Midori refused to even dignify that with a logically reasoned denial. The dead did not speak to the living, and even if they did so, Midori highly doubted whether Tomoe Yukishiro would give a damn about her problems. The woman had hardly known Midori during her life, and had only been spared a torturously painful death by her own stupidity.

And yet here was her _outouto_, bound and determined to help his own foe because that is what he thought his long-dead sister would have wanted.

Insane. Obviously.

She seethed internally at his postulation that the two of them were alike. How dare he make that claim? Midori was nothing like Enishi. She had never been like Enishi.

…Although, they did seem to share similar experiances in their pasts…

…And Midori had also once sworn revenge against a man before, though she had opted not to carry it out when finally given the chance…

…And they had both been alone because of Kenshin for over a decade…

Damn it all; maybe they were somewhat alike, as much as Midori wanted to deny it.

When Midori finally exited the bath house, she tripped in the doorway over the napping form of Kenshin, who had apparently been waiting outside ever since she had demanded that he go away. She ignored his hasty apologies and his pleas for her to talk to him; he followed right behind her as she made her way into the kitchens in search of something to eat. He pestered her to let him cook for her, to rest, to sit down before she collapsed from exhaustion; mothering her like a hen with it's newborn chicks. At last, just to shut him up, Midori threw herself down at her normal spot at the table and glared at him until he retreated into the kitchen.

"He's mother-hennin' ya again, ain't he?"

Midori's face softened slightly as she turned her eyes to the figure of Sanosuke, leaning against the doorway with his hands in his pockets and a fishbone clamped between his grinning teeth.

"Yes," Midori grumbled, putting her elbows on the low table and dropping her suddenly heavy head into her heands. "I am sorry if I hurt you last night."

"Nah, I'm fine. I didn't realize you were gonna bolt or I woulda gotten out of the way." Sanosuke swaggered into the room and plopped down across the table from Midori, removing his hands from his pockets and folding them behind his head. "No big deal, Midori. I'm sorry for jumping on you for attacking Kaoru; if she'd said those things to me, I might have done the same thing."

Midori raised her head to catch Sanosuke's eye, and her rooster-haired friend nodded in answer to her inquiring look.

"Megumi told me what she said," he informed her quietly; Midori wondered if he were worried that Kenshin would overhear. "She doesn't blame you either. Said that Jou-chan had it comin' as soon as she started spoutin' that shit. You didn't hurt her too badly, just bruised her neck is all. She'll be fine once those go away."

"I could care less whether she'll be fine," Midori growled, head going back into her hands. Sanosuke wisely chose not to comment.

"Tsubame-chan was a little shook up, but Yahiko says the girlie always falls apart when people fight or even talk loud around her. She's asleep now, but Megumi talked to her and she understands why you went after Jou-chan. Yahiko thinks you were too nice; he said you shoulda punched her at least once."

Midori smiled involuntarily at that last statement.

"Kenshin still doesn't know what really happened. Jou-chan ain't talkin'."

The smile instantly died from her lips. "He knows now. He cornered me when I came back and locked us both up in the training dojo. Didn't you hear the screaming?"

"Bits and pieces."

Midori snorted. "He knows. Stupid _baka_."

A hand tentively touched her arm, and when she looked up she saw that Sanosuke was leaning across the table towards her. He took one of her hands and gave it a squeeze.

"You mad at him?" he asked softly, obviously not wanting to be overheard.

Midori didn't give a shit who heard her. "Furious."

Before Sanosuke could comment or ask another question, Kenshin exited the kitchen carrying a tray of food. The room was totally silent as Midori consumed her meal, and when she was done and Kenshin had again disappeared into the kitchen, Midori immediately vacated the dining room in favor of the porch. Sanosuke followed, lounging beside her as though he didn't have a care in the world; Midori couldn't help but be slightly jealous of her friend's seemingly lazy relaxation, even knowing that he was probably wound just as tightly as she by all the tension that seemed to surround the Kamiya Dojo these days.

Kenshin came out to the porch after a short time, seating himself not far from Midori. Midori ignored him.

"So what've you been doing all day?" Sanosuke drawled, swinging his fishbone from one side of his mouth to the other.

Midori grimaced; no way in the seven circles of Hell was she going to admit she spent the better part of the day crying. "Sulking at the river and trying to cool my anger."

"Did it work?"

In answer, Midori shot a menacing glare in Kenshin's direction; Kenshin's face promptly lost most of it's color.

For a long moment, no one said anything else. Sanosuke had laid back, his hands pillowing his head and his warm brown eyes closed; the fishbone was still for the time being. Kenshin was hunched over his knees, sitting on the edge of the porch and staring morosely at the ground. Midori trained her eyes upward at the stars, the words of an old riddle playing through her head as she pondered whether to mention Enishi or not. She wasn't sure if she could stomach the reaction she was sure to get from Kenshin.

Fuck it. Today seemed to be her day to jump into stupidity feet first, why stop now?

"I saw Enishi Yukishiro today," she promptly blurted out.

Sanosuke nearly swallowed his fishbone and began violently choking.

Kenshin fell forward to lie face down in the dirt, obviously stunned by her abrupt announcement.

Midori sighed and braced herself for the onslaught of questions.

She should have just kept her mouth shut.

* * *

A/N: This chapter took forever to write. I think I restarted about ten times before I came up with this, and I'm still not 100% happy with it. I apologize for the long wait. Please review.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

_The nameless little girl is very, very scared. She is trying her best not to show it, because Okaa-sama always becomes very angry with the girl when she cries. Crying will mean more strikes with the bamboo switch Okaa-sama keeps close at all times._

_The girl crouches in the dirty corner of the hut that Okaa-sama says is hers and watches with fearful eyes as her outou-sama speaks with the strangers. She cannot hear what is being said, but every few seconds Outou-sama will gesture in her direction and the strangers will shoot her weird looks. At one point Outou-sama calls her from her corner and makes her stand in front of the strangers. She has to stand very still and not move while the strangers poke and prod, pinching her skinny arms and skinnier legs. They make her raise her worn old shift, feel her hollow belly and run their cold hands over her chest and sides. The girl wants to run, but Okaa-sama hits her hard in the face with the switch and she knows better than to move._

_After a time, she is banished back to her corner while the strangers and her parents talk in low voices. The talking lasts for a long, long time. Food is passed among the adults and the girl wonders if she will get the scraps tonight like she usually does or if those will go to the big dogs the strangers left outside. This would not be the first time the girl has gone hungry while her parents were fed. Demons do not get to eat human food, as her okaa-sama has reminded her more than once._

_"…too thin, that one…"_

_"…won't fetch a good price…"_

_"…stuck with her if nobody wants her…"_

_"Just take it away!" her okaa-sama suddenly screams, waving the switch in the air with a scary look on her face. "I just want it out of my home! It's a curse, don't you see? It's a sign of the gods' anger at my husband and me! We have to get rid of it! Take it away from me!"_

_The girl knows from experience that the "it" her okaa-sama refers to is her. She is a monster, the spawn of a demon who raped her okaa-sama in her dreams; such an abomination does not deserve to be addressed as she or her, and can never be worthy of a proper name. Her okaa-sama has told her so many different times._

_The girl doesn't understand what her okaa-sama means when she says 'take it away'. Does she want the girl to leave the hut? The girl hopes not; she can hear the pouring rain outside, and is afraid of the Thunder god and his brother Lightning as they vent their heavenly rage on the earth. What if they strike her down? What if they decide to destroy the spawn of demons, like her okaa-sama has begged them to do on stormy nights in the past?_

_Her outou-sama calms her okaa-sama as best he can; the girl watches as he produces a small pouch that jingles prettily as he moves it. Her outou-sama says something in a low voice to the strangers, and then hands them the musical pouch. He is carefully not looking at the girl._

_The girl is silent as the men roughly yank her outside. She is quiet as they tie her hands in front of her and attach her lead to one of their horses' saddles. She says nothing as they mount the horses, whistle to the dogs, and nudge their mounts forward._

_Instead of protesting or screaming or crying, the nameless little girl cranes her head to look over her shoulder. Her parents have come out of their hut and stand in front of the door, watching as she is led away. Her outou-sama has an arm around her okaa-sama's waist, as though to steady her. Okaa-sama leans her head onto Outou-sama's shoulder; the girl wonders for a moment if Okaa-sama is crying. But the thought has barely crossed her mind before Okaa-sama turns to throw her arms around Outou-sama, laughing joyously as she hugs her husband in the rain and her unwanted daughter is lead away to begin her life of slavery._

_The little girl watches her Okaa-sama and her Outou-sama until the strangers lead her around a turn and her hut fades from sight._

_She will never see her parents again._

_She is only four years old._

* * *

Midori jerked awake, arms flailing wildly for a moment as she fought to regain her balance before she slid off the porch. She brought up a shaky hand to wipe at her sweat-soaked face, shocked to realize that there were tears mixed with the sweat pouring from her body. Both of her hands were shaking, fine tremors dancing along her body as her short gasps for breath caused her chest to heave and her ribs to ache.

Midori drew up her knees, hugged them tightly to her chest, and buried her face in the fabric of her _hakama_. She tried desperately to control herself, tried to take normal breaths and still the tremors. She told herself that it was foolish of her to react as she was; it had only been a dream, and old memory from many years before. It shouldn't still be able to bother her after all of this time.

But that did not change the reality of her pain.

"…M-M-Midori-san?"

Midori's head snapped up in surprise at the sound of her name. Her eyes latched onto the timidly approaching figure of Tsubame, dressed in her white sleeping _yukata_ and looking horribly shy.

"Tsubame-chan," Midori blurted somewhat dumbly, very aware of her sweat-bathed face and the wetness in her eyes. It must have been very, very late, as the sun had set long before she had dozed off. Midori cast a quick glance to the east and was surprised to see a thick line of pink poking over the horizon. It was only a short time before dawn. What the hell was Tsubame doing up so early?

The girl dithered on the spot for a moment, fiddling with the sleeve of her yukata and blushing several different shades of red. Midori sat in silence, watching Tsubame and trying to get herself back under control. Neither spoke for a long moment.

"Um…may I…s-s-sit with you, M-Midori-san?" Tsubame finally stuttered out, taking a hesitant step forward. Midori immediately adjusted herself so that her legs hung over the edge of the porch and she could lean sideways against the support beam she had dozed off against. She patted the wooden boards beside her invitingly, and Tsubame slowly sank down to sit with her.

Midori studied the girl for a moment from the corner of her eye. Tsubame had been hiding from her recently. It had been eight days now since her conversation with Enishi Yukishiro and subsequent return to the dojo. In that time, both Kaoru and Tsubame had avoided her as if she carried an infectious disease. Kaoru's avoidance did not bother Midori; she was still furious at the chit for her hurtful and blaming words, and as far as she cared, Kaoru could continue to avoid her forever. Not so with Tsubame; Midori had grown quite fond of the little waitress in the past year, more so even that she had realized until she had been forced to watch the girl practically run from her every day for the past week.

And now…today was the day. The day Enishi had declared his return, and the day his jinchu would be carried out. Today was the day.

"Why are you up so early?" she asked Tsubame now.

"I…um…just…had a little…nightmare," was the whispered reply, and Tsubame bowed her head morosely, as though her admission had been something shameful. Midori ignored this, scooting closer to the girl and laying her arm across the thin shoulders. Tsubame looked up at her, startled, and Midori gave a very small smile.

"I just had one too," she informed the girl, nodding at the look of shocked disbelief that met her statement. "I have nightmares regularly. They keep me up many nights. What was yours about, Tsubame-chan? Do you wish to talk about it?"

Midori had an idea that she already knew what the girl would say. Her suspicions were confirmed a moment later when Tsubame whispered, "It's just…tonight that man is supposed to come back…and everyone…everyone will be in danger. What if…someone gets hurt tomorrow? What if…someone d-"

"No one is going to die," Midori interrupted firmly, squeezing the girl's lightly quaking shoulders in reassurance. "I will not allow that man to kill any of our friends."

"Not…not even Kaoru-san?"

Midori drew back slightly, shocked by Tsubame's question and stung that the thought had ever entered her mind to begin with. Apparently the sight of Midori doing her best to strangle Kaoru was still somewhat fresh in her mind.

"Kaoru-dono will not be harmed," she promised in a low voice, trying hard not to let Tsubame know that she had hurt Midori. Obviously the child had not intended to do so; she was too sweet and kind for that.

Tsubame hung her head again, her eyes overly bright in the growing light of a new day.

"I'm so pathetic," she whispered, the quaking in her shoulders becoming more pronounced. "I'm just…so scared. And everyone else…is so brave…and nobody feels fear…except me…"

"I am afraid. I feel fear."

Again Midori's words were met with shocked disbelief.

"It is not a sign of weakness to feel fear. It is not weak to be afraid. Weakness is not facing the things that you fear. Weakness is letting fear rule you by not admitting to being afraid. It takes much courage, Tsubame-chan, to admit that you are afraid. It takes more courage to master the fear. But do you want to know why fear can be mastered?"

Tsubame looked up once more, twin trails of tears cutting down her round cheeks. There was sadness in her eyes, as was to be expected, but there was also the faintest glimmer of hope, as well. Midori met her gaze, raised one hand, and tapped her left temple with her pointer finger.

"Fear can be mastered because fear is something the mind creates. It isn't some physical enemy; it is in your mind. Become the master of all parts of yourself, and you will learn to master your fear, Tsubame-chan. Don't let your fear be the master of you."

Midori smiled fully at the girl, and, at last, Tsubame smiled back.

At that moment, Tsubame's stomach gave such a growl as to sound like a rabid dog. Tsubame blushed scarlet and put a small hand over her abdomen, obviously trying to silence the continued litany of noises issuing from her empty organ. Midori was forced to turn away to muffle her snickers in her _gi_ sleeve. Once she had managed to compose a straight face, Midori climbed to her feet and offered a hand to the thoroughly embarrassed Tsubame.

"Come, Tsubame-chan. Let us begin breakfast before your poor stomach becomes any angrier. Perhaps if we complete preparations before she wakes up, Kaoru-dono will not attempt to set the dojo on fire again."

"…I don't think…she actually _meant_ to set the roof on fire…the other day…"

* * *

The sun is rising.

Enishi leans against the frame of the open window, eyes shadowed both by his white bangs and the dark glasses his is wearing. He stands with his powerful arms folded over his chest, his face turned towards the east and the promise of a new day. His mind, however, is many miles to the west, in a city that reeks of corruption and with a woman who has robbed him of his sister's smile for the past week.

He will see her again. Before the next sun rises tomorrow, he will see her again, and his sister's smile will be returned to him.

The woman has haunted him this week. Every day for the past fifteen years, when Enishi has closed his eyes, he has seen the beloved face of his onee-sama smiling lovingly at him from the darkness. Every day for the past fifteen years, the presence of his onee-sama behind his eyes has been what kept him alive. But now, after his conversation with that woman and her refusal of his help, whenever Enishi closes his eyes during the day, it is not the much-loved face of his onee-sama that he sees.

It is the snarling face of Zetsumei Kurohyou.

Enishi wants the woman gone from his onee-sama's rightful place. He wants Tomoe's smile, not that woman's snarl. He doesn't want to see the pain in the woman's eyes or the tears on her cheeks. He doesn't want to wonder what could have made her cry. He doesn't care about this woman, and damn it, he doesn't _want_ to care about this woman. Tomoe is the only one that matters. Tomoe has always been the only person in this world or the next that mattered to Enishi.

So why can he not see her now? Why does he have to see that woman?

He doesn't understand her. Why would anyone wish to stay with a monster like the Battousai? Zetsumei Kurohyou knew, better than even Enishi himself, what kind of…thing the Battousai was. The Battousai had proclaimed to be her friend, and then he had almost killed her, just as he had killed Tomoe. How could Zetsumei Kurohyou live with him after that? How did she choose to stay with him after such a betrayal? Had he brainwashed her somehow? Convinced her that he hadn't meant to kill her, really?

Why did she stay with someone who made her sad enough to cry for a whole day?

Enishi turns his back on the sunrise, a scowl darkening his handsome features as he storms from the room. He will not think of the woman again. It is enough that he must see her tonight, when he delivers his Jinchu on that bastard Battousai and finally gets his revenge for the murder of his _onee-sama. _

He refuses to let the memory of her sobs bother him any longer.

She is not, after all, his problem.

* * *

The sun was setting.

Midori smiled calmly as Tsubame glanced at her once more, dawdling when she should have been heading to the newly rebuilt Akabeko. They had all agreed that she would be safer there than she would have been at the dojo; at this stage of the game, Enishi would not attack there again, but would focus instead on the dojo. And so Tsubame's things had been packed, a round of goodbyes and reassurances spoken, and Yahiko was now leading Tsubame's unwilling figure out of the gates of the Kamiya Dojo. Yahiko would see her safely to the Akabeko's door before returning.

Once the gates had closed behind the two children, Midori turned away and took a seat once more on the porch. The world had seemed to tilt slightly for a moment, and she wanted to sit before she fell.

She had felt off all day, to be honest. Breakfast, which had tasted much better than Kaoru could have accomplished, had refused to stay in her stomach for more than an hour before she was heaving her guts up behind the bath house. Lunch had been a disaster; she'd finished maybe a bite or two before sprinting out of the dining area to empty her stomach in the first place she could find.

Megumi had approached her earlier, out of concern, but Midori had brushed aside the doctor's concerns and issued a blanket order not to say a damn thing to Kenshin. She knew that he would take any chance to keep her out of the coming fight, and she had no intention of handing him a reason on a silver platter. Tonight she would do everything in her power to protect the people around her; tomorrow she would worry about herself.

Kenshin was watching her now; he was still somewhat miffed about her words earlier, she noticed, but she didn't give a shit. He had been stupid earlier; Midori was right and Kenshin was wrong, whether the bull-headed _baka_ would admit it or not.

_"I'll be here at first."_

_Midori cocks her head in Kenshin's direction, listening. Kenshin stands in the center of the courtyard, surrounded by their friends. The expression on his face is deadly serious._

_"Sano, take the front garden and the dojo area. I leave its defense to your judgment."_

_Cloth-wrapped knuckles crack loudly as Sanosuke grins. "Right."_

_"Kaoru-dono, Yahiko, stay inside the dojo. Make defending yourself your first priority."_

_Midori watches as Yahiko slumps, devastation and rejection written all over his young face._

_"However…"_

_The slump of Yahiko's shoulders straightens imperceptibly._

_"Yahiko, if worst comes to worst, I will allow you to come out to attack."_

_Yahiko's face brightens; he looks like someone announced his birthday is early this year. "R-right!"_

_"Megumi-dono, you'll be inside the dojo as well. Take care of the wounded."_

_The doctor smiles beautifully at Kenshin before turning a positively evil look on Sanosuke, who cringes away from her. "No matter how badly you get hurt, I will fix you up again…as long as you aren't dead, that is."_

_"…why the hell are ya lookin' at just me, fox-lady?"_

_Kenshin turns in Midori's direction, but Midori begins speaking before Kenshin can open his mouth._

_"I will be here," she informs him, moving between their friends to push him aside and take his place. "You will be protecting Megumi-san."_

_Silence. Midori glances at Kenshin from the corner of one eye; he is staring at her open-mouthed as though she is crazy. She lets out a long sigh of frustration at his idiocy._

_"It is foolish for you to engage in a fight until Enishi Yukishiro joins the fray. My guess is that he will send the six pawns he has gathered to fight us first, hoping that you will be stupidly noble enough to tire yourself out in various fights against them. He would then come out himself, while you are tired and weak or injured, and do his level best to kill you. I've already told you, Himura: you are not going to die unless I kill you myself or you die of old age. I do not feel like gutting you today and you are much too young to croak. You will stay out of the way until Enishi Yukishiro is ready to fight. I will help Sanosuke out here. And if anyone utters my name before these strangers, it will be that last word you speak until your broken jaw heals again."_

_Kenshin flinches at her use of his surname; she has not called him Kenshin anywhere but in her mind for the past week, and each time she speaks his surname Kenshin recoils as if struck. No one says anything for a long moment; it is as though the people around her are shocked by her logic. At last, from behind Midori, there comes a terrified, high-pitched voice that trembles over the words as Tsubame pipes up from her hiding place behind Yahiko._

_"Um…what about…me?"_

Now, as the sun disappeared and the sky grew increasingly darker, Midori crouched in the exact center of the courtyard with her _katana_ strapped securely across her back. The money pouch she always wore tied to her arm had been removed, and several newly-purchased daggers were hidden on her person. Her eyes, glowing just slightly in the ever-growing darkness, darted around her in search of threats she knew were real.

Time passed. Yahiko returned and marched past her towards the dojo. Every so often, Sanosuke or Kenshin would cross into and out of her line of vision. No one was speaking; the tension was rising with each minute of waiting that came and went.

There was suddenly a presence at her back. Without turning around, Midori addressed it with a quietly uttered question.

"How do you think they will approach? I do not believe that they will enter through the gates; it will put them into a type of corral, limiting their range of attack and making it too easy to -"

"Um…Midori-san?"

Startled by the feminine voice, Midori glanced over her shoulder to see who she was talking to; her mood, already gloomy, darkened to match the shadows in the courtyard when she saw that it was Kaoru, holding a tray of tea and food. Annoyed, and having no wish to speak to the girl, Midori turned her head away in what should have been an obvious dismissal. Instead of retreating footsteps, a clang of harshly set aside dishes rang in Midori's ears before Kaoru stomped around to stand before her, hands on her hips and a seriously pissed expression on her face.

Midori's eyes narrowed.

"Listen, you! There's no need for you to be so rude to me all the time! I was just offering you some food! Accept it or say 'no thank you', but don't turn away from me like I'm beneath your notice!"

"I don't want any of your food. That should have become apparent when I turned away from you, stupid girl. Leave me alone; go pester Himura, he enjoys your endless talk." Midori glared at Kaoru from under her bangs, the accusations from eight days previous ringing loudly in her ears.

_You were there with Kenshin, Midori. You were there when he brought Tomoe-san to live with him. You were there as they lived with each other and Kenshin killed people and his boss pushed Tomoe-san towards him. Why didn't you stop it? Why didn't you see that she wasn't trustworthy? You could have saved Kenshin from the pain he's lived with all these years and instead you didn't do anything._

She had to remind herself, as the chit's accusations repeated over and over in her head, that she had promised Tsubame that Kaoru would not be hurt. Which meant the Midori wasn't allowed to break her neck. Instead she turned her head to the side, rudely dismissing Kaoru for the second time.

"Go away," she growled. "Go bother someone else."

Before Kaoru had time to retort, a loud BOOM and a flash of light shattered the stillness around them. Instantly Midori was on her feet, stepping around Kaoru and getting in between the girl and the dojo gates. Her hand was on the hilt of her katana, ready to draw at a moment's notice.

"The cannon!" she barked, shooting a glance at Kaoru. "Get back! Into the dojo!"

"It's not the cannon, Midori-san, look!"

Midori turned, her face tilted in the direction Kaoru was pointing, hand still clenched tightly on the hilt of her weapon.

Fireworks.

The sky above Tokyo was ablaze with fireworks.

Midori felt like she had just aged ten years in ten seconds.

"The end of summer," Kaoru said from behind her. "One day it's summer, and the next, it's fall. I had forgotten that today's the day of the festival. They always have fire –"

"_No_."

There were blank patches in the sky.

Midori watched, awestruck, as four hot-air balloons drifted swiftly towards them. Four hot-air balloons. The cutting-edge in military technology. Midori had seen one only once before, from a great distance.

Now she was staring up at four, and they were all hanging directly over the dojo.

"Kaoru, go!" Midori shouted, yanking her blade free of its sheath as Kaoru scrambled away from her, the tray of food forgotten on the ground. A quick glance behind showed Kenshin's tense form moving out of the way so that Kaoru could enter the dojo. Midori could only hope that he would stay there, out of her way, and wait for the time to fight Enishi.

**_"BATTOUSAI! BATTOUSAI!"_**

Midori focused her gaze once again on the sky as a large shape seemed to fall from the basket of the closest balloon. The sound of stones grating together to form words told her who her first opponent would be even before she saw the hulking giant's single hand or the cannon attached to his arm. Here, then, was the man who had blown up the Akabeko.

The man hit the ground standing, and such was his weight that Midori could feel the earth quiver beneath her feet from the impact. The enormous mouth of the cannon swung up to stare Midori full in the face, and as she darted forward, the man continued to scream.

"**_BATTOUSAI_**!"

And with an ear-splitting _BOOM_, he fired his weapon, sending a cannonball shooting straight at Midori.

Time seemed to slow. The woman and the ball moved towards one another; the woman moved with her blade angled over her right shoulder and a fierce gleam in her eyes. One step; two steps; and Midori's feet left the ground. She flipped, low, skimming over the top of the ball by barely an inch. The blade of her _katana_ stretched out.

In the next instant, time moved on. Midori was crouched before the cannon-toting behemoth, blade extended behind her. In two separate but equally deep gouges in the earth of a courtyard, the two halves of the cannonball lay harmless, still smoking slightly. Displaced dirt rained down around her.

"I am Zetsumei Kurohyou. I will be the one you fight."

The warrior in front of her let out a roar of rage, frothing at the mouth like a rabid animal.

"OUT OF MY WAY, WOMAN! **_BATTOUSAI_**!"

The giant swung his cannon at her, clearly wishing to knock her aside in favor of his preferred target. Midori leapt upwards, timing her descent so that she landed on top of the cannon with a clear pathway directly to the huge man's shoulder. She darted forwards on the slick steel, lunged, and buried her blade to the hilt in the man's forearm; her blade rested horizontally just behind his massive collarbone.

Her victim bellowed, even as Midori tore her katana free and flipped backwards away from him. Blood spurted from the man's punctured arm, running down the cannon and coloring the bright steel crimson. Quickly before he could recover, Midori turned her _katana_ in her hands so that the cutting edge of the weapon faced her, leapt forward once again, and bashed the man's nose in with the flat of her blade. The one-armed man, still bellowing, crumpled backwards to the ground; after an instant, his vocal outpouring ceased.

In the newly restore silence of the courtyard, Midori straightened up, flinging her sword-arm out to the side to rid her weapon of the blood that dripped from it. She turned it once again so that the weapon could be used for its intended purpose, her eyes scanning the balloons above her in the light of the half moon. Catching a fleeting glimpse of white, Midori focused on a balloon that seemed to have an attachment – a large box hanging underneath the basket.

"Is that the most you can provide for entertainment, Yukishiro?" she called, a sneer curling her upper lip. "Why not come down yourself, and warm up before your fight with Himura? I promise not to kill you, as Himura should finish this jinchu shit himself!"

No answer was forthcoming from Enishi, but that did not mean that no answer was given.

From a different balloon, a figure leapt free, spinning head over heels in a compact freefall towards the living quarters. With a fierce cry and the scream of straining wood, the unfortunate building seemed to explode outward, showering the courtyard and Midori herself in a rain of wood fragments. She cursed, putting an arm in front of her face to shield her eyes from flying projectiles. When she looked up, she was surprised to see _two_ figures facing away from her, between her and the dojo where her friends were standing. One was a completely unfamiliar, heavily muscled man with some kind of armor over his hands and lower arms. The second was the cross-dressing asshole who had shot her in the shoulder and later attacked the police chief's home.

Shooting towards them, she angled her upper body back and to the side, going into a slide as she passed between the two and coming up facing them. In an instant Sanosuke was standing with her, having pulled a large object wrapped in cloth from somewhere under the dojo's porch. They stood side by side, a hand's length apart, facing the two intruders.

Sanosuke was shooting the muscled man evil looks. "So you're back for an ass kicking, huh bastard?"

Midori realized with a start that this must be the man who had attacked that other dojo, the same day the cross-dresser had attacked the police chief. The looks he was exchanging with Sanosuke were proof enough that the two had met before. After a moment the stranger's eyes snapped past Midori, no doubt locking on Kenshin's seated from behind her.

"So you're the Battousai?" he yelled out, his voice reminding Midori oddly of a certain broom-headed foe with a questionable fashion sense. "Awesome! I'll beat you down in just a minute. First I got a little…unfinished business to take care of with this rooster-headed asshole!"

"Just what I wanted to hear!" Sanosuke growled, flexing his hands around the shaft that emerged from the cloth. In a jerk he had ripped the cloth away, reveling what looked to be a giant piece of iron on a pole with great metal patches along a crack about halfway down. From behind her, Midori heard Yahiko's shout of triumph.

"His _zanbatou_! He's fixed it!"

Midori had heard of _zanbatous_, great heavy weapons that required great upper and lower body strength in order to use. She had not been aware that Sanosuke possessed one. She shook her head once, sharply, dismissing it from her mind. Sanosuke could very well take care of himself.

The cross-dresser, Otowa Hyouko if Midori remembered correctly from their last meeting, was watching her, a sick smirk on his painted lips.

"Oooo, hello, little kitty," he cooed, waving his fingers at her from under the long sleeve of his kimono. Midori growled at him, the word 'kitty' rubbing her the wrong way. "I was soooo hoping we could play again, as I never did get to show you all of my toys! We're going to have so much fun together, my dear Zetsumei Kurohyou."

Midori did not move, despite how badly she wanted to shut the bastard up. Her eyes were darting from his face to his left hand, where she was sure that little crossbow of his was hidden.

Hyouko cocked his head to the side, pouting at her in a manner that was quite disturbing coming from a grown man. "Why aren't you moving, kitty? Don't you want to play with me?"

"Are you still wearing your crossbow?" she shot back, her free hand clenching into a tight fist at her side when he called her 'kitty' yet again; gods she wanted to make him shut up. "If I move, you're probably the type of jackass that would shoot at one of the people behind me, probably the boy or one of the women. Yes, that sounds like something you would do; you have coward stamped all over your womanly face, you wouldn't have a problem attacking someone who isn't expecting it would you?"

The smile slipped before returning full force, as Hyouko gestured flamboyantly in the direction of Sanosuke and the muscle man. "So you're just going to let Banjin kill your friend? How nice of you. Or perhaps Battousai will save him?"

"Himura will stay where he is," Midori barked, not glancing either behind her at Kenshin or to the side where she could hear Sanosuke's beating. "Sanosuke will not require my assistance. Your friend Banjin will not win that fight."

"Hmm, if you say so, kitty."

Movement above drew Midori's glare from the cross-dressing jackass in front of her to the balloon with the box hanging beneath it just in time to see that box begin its descent. It hit the ground with a crash, splintering on impact and once again filling the air with wood shards. Dust billowed around Midori, obscuring her view and threatening to choke her.

"My turn." The voice was unfamiliar, coming from the cloud of dust and splinters. A slight breeze chose that moment to sweep through the courtyard, slowly blowing the obstruction away. Midori peered past the annoying coward before her and felt her eyes widen slightly at what she saw.

"I and my Iwanbou Unit Three."

The first thought that sprang to Midori's mind was of the late Makoto Shishio. She was sure that he had commanded a subordinate that looked extremely similar to the thing before her. The only differences would have been the tattoo-like markings on the thing in front of her, and the fact that Shishio's subordinate had been hugely fat. The thing in front of her was like a slimmed-down, muscled-up version of that blob.

Standing on the thing's colossal knee was a man in what appeared to be a modified omnitsu uniform, complete with a skull-like mask that covered his entire face. Only his beady black eyes were visible, glinting in the dark from behind the skull.

Midori's grip on her weapon tightened.

Shouts of surprise could be heard from behind her.

"That's the thing from the Aoi-ya! The thing that worked with Shishio!"

Sanosuke's opponent had foolishly turned his attention away from his own fight to laugh idiotically in Kenshin's general direction.

"Gein's got us something cool, now! He ain't gonna let you keep sittin' around anymore, Ba-"

Whatever else he might have wanted to say was cut short when Sanosuke's foot connected with the man's face.

Midori was torn. This Gein, the man by the Iwnabou, needed to be faced, but if she left the women unprotected the cross-dresser would harm them. Kenshin had to stay out of these fights unless absolutely necessary. That left only one option.

"Yahiko! Get out here!"

There came from behind her the sounds of a scuffle; turning, Midori was enraged to see that Kaoru was wrestling with Yahiko, clearly attempting to keep him from complying with Midori's command. The boy was putting up one hell of a fight to get away from the bitch, but as he didn't wish to hurt her, he was currently failing.

"Yahiko needs to stay here!" Kaoru exclaimed, face pink from the effort of holding onto the boy. "He can't fight, he's no match for –"

"Be silent!" Midori snapped, temper beating against its cage. "Have some faith in your own student, Kamiya! Don't disgrace him by doubting him in front of his enemies! Yahiko! Get out here!"

Yahiko managed to pry himself out of Kaoru's clutches, red-faced from either embarrassment or anger as he marched out to stand at Midori's side. His _bokken_ was ready at his side, and the glint in his dark eyes told Midori everything she needed to know. He was ready to fight.

A voice in Midori's head pointed out that though Kenshin had not objected to her move, neither had he said anything to support it. She quickly quashed the voice; she didn't have time to worry about what Kenshin thought. She would doubtlessly hear it all later, anyway.

"I must ask that you take care of this one for me," Midori explained, gesturing in the direction of the grinning cross-dresser. "I will fight the other man. Himura will aid you if the need arises."

"I can take this idiot!" Yahiko scowled at her, moving to march past her towards his foe; Midori jerked him back none-too-gently by the neck of his _gi_.

"Do not," Midori growled, glaring down at her fuming captive, "become over-confident. Over-confidence in a battle will get you killed faster than lack of skill. Don't lose this fight before the first strike is made."

Yahiko hung his head, muttering something at the ground before nodding. Midori let him go and stepped forward, sheathing her _katana_ and pulling out one of the many daggers she was carrying on her person. The cross-dresser let out a high-pitched squeal freakishly reminisent of a little girl.

"Oooo, kitty's going to play now, is she?"

In a blink Midori was at his side, sliding the edge of the dagger down to his wrist, slicing a line in the sleeve. The blade slid under the band that attached his crossbow to his arm, and with a jerk Midori sent it flying away, the strap severed. In the next instant she was away from the annoying man and approaching Gein, her dagger stored away once more and her _katana_ in her hand.

"You would sacrifice the child?"

Midori stopped where she was, eyes going back to the balloon above the thing and Gein. Enishi was looking directly at her, a sly smile on his lips. His eyes were twinkling as though he were a child with an amazing joke who was refusing to share it.

Midori snarled up at him. "I am not sacrificing anything. You, however, will be short one transvestite very, very soon. It's your loss, Yukishiro."

And she turned away from him to face Gein, dismissing Enishi as easily and as rudely as she had earlier dismissed Kaoru. She advanced cautiously towards Gein and his toy, pushing the seed of worry for Yahiko out of her mind. The kid would be fine. He could fight well, and there was always Kenshin if he needed backup.

She should focus on her own fight.

"Nice doll," she called rather flippantly, crouching low before the thing and eyeing Gein with a measure of uncertainty. She was completely unfamiliar with this man; his fighting techniques were a mystery to her. She would have to force him to make the first move, so that she could get a feel for the way he liked to fight.

"Do you enjoy playing with ugly toys?" she asked.

A chuckle was heard to emanate from behind the mask.

"People always ask me that," Gein informed her, moving quickly from the knee of the Iwanbou to its head, where he opened its mouth and lowered himself partway in.

"But they never ask it twice. Just the once before they die."

He disappeared down the throat of his doll.

From within the doll, a metallic groaning was soon heard. Moving as limberly as a man, the thing came to its feet, looming threateningly over Midori where she remained crouched and ready. A giant foot shot out to kick her; Midori dodged backwards at the last second, causing the foot to crash into the ground. Dirt shot in all directions.

Midori skidded to a halt and flung herself up and forward, skimming over the top of the monstrous doll's head just as she had done earlier to the cannonball. Again, her _katana_ extended, fully prepared to slice the doll's head in two –

But it did not work in Midori's favor.

There was a great pulling on Midori's blade, as though someone had grabbed it and was yanking her back. She was jerked backwards and flung away, landing on her feet before the doll. The doll's head, she could see, was not harmed in the least; not even a scratch marred it's pinkish surface. Her attack had been repelled and had no effect whatsoever.

Midori began to grin. Here, at last, would be a challenge.

"Finally. I get to have some fun, too."

* * *

_A/N: Please review._


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

"_We can't do that."_

"_Kabu, be reasonable!"_

"_Don't yell at me, Kenshin. I am being reasonable, and I'm telling you that we – cannot – do that. It's a stupid idea. Who in the world put such a thought into your head?"_

_Kenshin feels as though the world has tilted sharply on its axis. She is refusing him; his kabu has turned down his proposal. Kenshin is absolutely devastated. Apparently Midori can tell this from the expression on her face, because she lets out a loud sigh and rubs her face in exasperation with her hands._

"_Look, Kenshin, I know that you have a tendency to overanalyze things, so let me clear a few things up before you blow things out of proportion yet again."_

_Kenshin, who had been throwing himself the mother of all mental pity parties, pauses before he can sink too deeply into his depression. She may have just taken his heartfelt proposal, tossed in the dirt, and proceeded to stomp it to an early and painful death, but Midori is and always will be his precious kabu. He will listen to anything she has to say._

"_Just so we are clear: yes, I love you more than life."_

_Kenshin sits straighter at her declaration as elation fills him._

"_Yes, I will stay with you until the day that I die, even if you ask me to follow you to the ends of the earth or to remain at the Kamiya Dojo forever."_

_He is fairly puffed with the happiness and love her words bring to his soul._

"_Yes, I think you have a tendency to act like a brainless baka whose sole purpose in life is to drive me insane."_

…_Happy feeling gone now._

_Surely most women don't tell their suitors that they were brainless idiots when marriage was proposed?_

"_And NO, I absolutely will NOT consent to marry you."_

_And that brings the overwhelming feeling of depression crashing back with renewed vigor. Kenshin slumps over the laundry bucket morosely. Perhaps he can drown himself in the soapy water… _

_"Stop contemplating suicide and listen for a moment. I've only been gone for a few months, Kenshin, surely you haven't become quite as foolish as you seem at the moment in just a few months. Think about what you are suggesting. How exactly do you suppose we would be able to get married when I have officially been dead for over ten years?"_

_He hasn't actually considered that. He had not woken up today with a set plan to ask Midori for her hand. It's only been a week since she returned to him from the catastrophe in Kyoto. __She is still weak; she has fainting spells that scare the hell out of him with their unpredictability, coughs blood with frightening regularity, and has nightmares that wake them both with her muffled screams. She is withdrawn in ways that are different than before, and hates to have him out of her sight for more than a few minutes at a time. She whispers Makoto Shishio's name in her sleep, mixed in with curses and sobs and cries for her ninjin._

_She is a mess, and he knows it. What's worse, Midori is aware of her state, and she is constantly angry because of it._

_"…and no one but our friends is ever going to know my name, I don't want a record of it ever to reach the government pigs…"_

_The government will be unaware of her existence again, due to Okuubo's murder and the fact that she apparently paid the police commissioner a visit to make sure he keeps his mouth shut. She is safe from the government for now, but if they ever learn that the feared assassin Zetsumei Kurohyou is alive and well instead of dead like they wanted, who knows what they might do to her? The temple would of course make a record of their marriage, and if the government ever sent anyone snooping to see who this bride of the Battousai really was, his kabu would be discovered. He can never ask her to take that risk._

_Blood suddenly flecks the scarred side of his face, and Kenshin drops the gi he has been scrubbing to death as he whirls. Midori is already on her feet and backing away from the laundry, a hand clamped over her mouth as coughs shake her. Kenshin makes a move to rise as well, but his kabu holds out her free hand in an obvious command for him to stay. He is forced to watch helplessly as his kabu darts away, to cough up yet more blood somewhere away from him and his offered assistance. He wipes the specks of blood from his face before turning to continue the laundry with a forlorn expression._

_No, his kabu is right. Marriage to him is a stupid idea. He can't even help her the way he should now, when they are not man and wife._

_He doesn't deserve her. He never will._

* * *

Midori was really starting to hate that godsdamned doll.

She rolled to the side as the colossal foot smashed down in the spot she had previously occupied, adding yet another crater to Kaoru's poor courtyard. Her newly shattered ribs screamed in protest, and Midori let out a snarl that was half-fury, half-agony.

Why hadn't that fool Kaoru told her about the skin earlier? Then she wouldn't have at least a few shattered ribs to add to her growing list of physical complaints.

An arm shot towards her; Midori leapt clear of the doll's striking range, mind working furiously to figure out just what the hell she was going to do when the thing she was fighting was apparently cut-resistant. She had been slashing at the thing for at least ten minutes now; it should be a pile of useless parts. Instead it didn't have a scratch on it and Midori was beyond frustrated. To make matters worse, the doll was impossibly flexible; the limbs could all rotate at angles that were impossible for a human to imitate, making it possible for the thing to strike her from any direction.

As if to prove that point, the arm she had just dodged changed directions in a blink and plowed into her side, causing her to fly through the air and land hard on her shattered ribs, spewing blood from her mouth.

She was getting her ass kicked. She had thought this wouldn't be that difficult. How hard could it possibly be to cut up an oversized toy?

That was before the thing had twisted its arm in a sickening way to grab her and hurl her through the wall of the dojo.

Which was why her previously only bruised ribs were now shattered.

Kenshin and Megumi had both flipped out, of course. Only dire threats and her old trademark glare were currently keeping the two from dragging her forcefully away from the fight; dire threats for Kenshin, because fuck no he was _not_ getting involved yet, and trademark glare for Megumi, because when she glared like that while practically vomiting blood it always scared the shit out of the delicate doctor. They would stay out of her way for now.

Even from within the doll, the man called Gein was as easy to hear as if he were standing right next to her. "What now, Zetsumei Kurohyou? What will you do when your weapon is useless against my Iwanbou?"

Why did all of these people like to hear themselves talk?

Again an arm came towards her; again Midori dogded only to be hit once more thanks to that damnable flexibility, what Gein had termed the doll's 'free-joint mechanism'. That along with the 'shock absorption' was making this extremely irritating, because while Midori was being tossed around like a piece of trash the doll was deflecting all of her attacks with just its skin. How was she supposed to beat something that she couldn't cut?

"This is pointless."

He was talking _again_?

"I am the mechanical artist, the last descendant in a long line of puppet masters that have refined the arts of constrution and mechanics since the Middle Ages!"

"_Artist_?" Midori snapped back, going for the joint of the doll's elbow; she wanted to scream in frustration as the joint stretched, stringing out like taffy and making her attack completely useless. "You call this hideous monstrosity _art_? I've seen dirt drawings that are more artistic than this thing!"

A chuckle resonated from the doll, it's now ropy arm twisting to catch her foot in its fingers and throw her away yet again. "You are not the first to say such. But this doll isn't my idea of beauty, Zetsumei Kurohyou. At least, not artistic beauty. That is not its function. It is a perfected beauty of a machine, the prize of mechanical artistry, the pride of my family's arts!"

Was this man listening to himself? He had make this - this thing to commemorate his family's history of doll making?

Midori couldn't help but think it somewhat pathetic that Gein had nothing to brag about aside from his mastery of so childish a profession as doll making. He should have been making toys, not trying to kill her. True, the Iwanbou was extremely technologically advanced; but what good was Gein doing with it? What was it's purpose, aside from aiding Enishi Yukishiro in his Jinchu? Was that all this Gein man was good for, making dangerous toys for crazy men?

That was just sad.

Midori crouched where she had landed after that last throw, panting heavily and trying not to spit out too much blood. Kenshin would start trying to mother-hen her again and she might be forced to kill him for embarrassing her in front of these men. What she needed to worry about was just how in the hell she was going to destroy this doll. She couldn't cut it, it was freakishly flexible and therefore extremely fast, its joints weren't even solid for _kami's_ sake...what was she going to do?

Wait a moment. Back up to that last point.

_Its joints weren't solid._

How would that help her?

_The doll is hollow in the chest cavity; that's where Gein is controlling it from. What if the joints are hollow as well?_

But she couldn't cut the skin.

Couldn't cut...

But could she saw through it? Tear the arm off a little at a time?

Gein had been bragging about the joints earlier, right after he tossed her through the dojo wall. His words swam slowly to the forefront of Midori's mind.

_Only the rubber surface, processed for maximum ducility, and the steel control wires are left. Since the mechanics themselves have already detached, Battousai himself could not sever them. And you, dear lady, have no chance at all. _

Not hollow, then_._

She _hated_ when people compared her skills to Kenshin's like that. She was going to make a liar out of that windbag if it was the last thing she did on this earth. Besides, his annoying bragging had given her an idea.

"Come now, Zetsumei Kurohyou. Let us finish this game and be on to the main attraction." His voice clearly said that he wasn't planning for her to be the winner of this little game. Arrogent men - she was surrounded by them, gods help her.

She would make him choke on his arrogance. But first, a test to see if her idea would work.

Midori streaked towards her opponent like a bullet, charging headlong towards the doll's torso as though that were her intended target. The arms both shot towards her, grasping at air as she dodged them and leapt upon the things head. She took the small tail of hair into her right fist, angled her blade, and began dragging it back and forth across the doll's head as fast as she could. She didn't have long, any second now those arms were going to jerk her off of it -

The thought was barely completely before there came a terrible, meaty _pop_ as her right knee was pulled out of socket, the joint strained from the giant's yanking on her legs and her death grip on the doll's hair. Midori's breath left her in a bloody rush of air; her hold on the hair loosened, and an instant later she landed hard on her back with stars doting her vision - not all of them in the night sky.

**_OW_**.

Midori struggled into a sitting position, pain from her out-of-place knee-cap radiating through her entire body. She grimanced in disgust at the sight of her lower leg bending at an impossible angle. Oh, this was just _perfect_. Absolutley fucking _wonderful_.

Kenshin was next to her in an instant, hands on her shoulders as he tried to gently force her to lie down and a look of utmost horror upon his face.

"Don't move," he commanded, a thick undertone of panic in his voice as he stared down at her knee. "I will carry you to Megumi-san, she can fix you while I -"

Midori ignored him, shrugging forcefully out from under his hands and bending her upper body over her screwed up leg. She didn't have time to be carried around like a baby. She had a fight to finish, by the gods, and no way in hell was she letting Kenshin steal her victory just because of a dislocated knee-cap. Grimly, her teeth set in a deadlock against the pain, Midori positioned her hands on her screaming knee.

Kenshin apparently realized what she was going to do an instant before she did it; his hands shot out even as he exclaimed, "Kabu, no!" in a panicky voice.

There was another hideous, meaty popping sound; the next moment Midori was struggling to her feet, grimacing in pain even as she pushed Kenshin none too gently back towards the dojo.

"Not your turn yet, Himura," she mumbled distractedly, hobbling over to where she had dropped her _katana_ in her involuntary flight and stooping to pick it up. She kicked her leg out a few times, wincing at the jolts of pain that shot through her every time she took a step. The muscles around her knee were going to swell horribly after that treatment; she'd be limping for a week at the least. Her eyes scanned the doll's head as she approached, wanting to see if her painful little experiment had worked. Her gaze latched onto the shiny metal cable that glinting in the weak light of the stars, just visible through the narrow line that had split in the Iwanbou's head. A wide, slightly terrifying grin spread Midori's lips nearly ear to ear, her white teeth flashing momentarily in a near-snarl.

She _could_ saw through it.

That damn thing was going _down_.

* * *

High in the air, his short cloak wrapped around his shoulders as the tie around his weapon is wrapped around his left fist, Enishi watches.

The woman is far more skilled that he would ever have anticipated. The horror stories his spies have brought him are almost an insult to her ability. He remembers hearing from one source that she single-handedly slaughtered forty of her own allies in one night, even after they had raped her sporadically for two weeks, and then had the strength needed for killing two squads of the legendary Shinsengumi only hours later despite gross physical injuries to her person. He had thought it an exaggeration at the time; how could a _woman_ be that strong, to kill after being violated over and over for weeks? Surely that was not possible.

But before tonight, he would not have believed a woman could force her own dislocated knee-cap back into place and then get up to continue a fight she was clearly losing. How did Zetsumei Kurohyou have such strength? Was she truly a demon, to not feel the pain of her many wounds?

Her stubborn refusal to go down might pose a problem to his plans. Gein must not be killed until after Jinchu was delivered. Gein must not lose this fight.

But apparently, Zetsumei Kurohyou doesn't give a damn that she might possibly be ruining the plans Enishi has spent the last decade of his life putting together.

She runs at the Iwanbou with amazing speed considering the agony she must feel every time she puts weight on her right leg. As with every time before, Gein manipulates his toy so as to sweep the woman back. He knows that he cannot kill her, knows that Enishi wants her alive at all costs; otherwise the woman would most likely be dead by now. Gein is going easy on her under Enishi's orders.

Nimbly, much more nimbly than she should currently be capable of, the woman dodges the incoming hand. However, when she jumps at the joint of the doll's elbow once more, and Gein again activates the mechanism to allow the metal joint to disconnect beneath the skin, she does not give up and jump away. Instead, Enishi watches in mild curiosity as she stretches the floppy joint as far as she can, like a ball stretching the sling of a catapult. Then, when the rubbery skin at last reaches its limits, Zetsumei Kurohyou loops the blade of her _katana_ with a portion of the stretched elbow, puts her uninjured leg on top of the doll's upper arm, and wretches her blade upward as hard and sharply as she can.

Enishi watches, a white brow rising higher and higher, as the strange skin of Gein murderous doll tears and finally shreds under the sawing pressure; as the woman is smacked aside by the remaining arm to land with an muted thud on the ground of the courtyard, blood spewing from her mouth; as she looks somewhat blearily up at his balloon for a long moment before a sick grin of victory spreads across her face.

A cold fist squeezes Enishi's insides as the woman staggers to her feet, grin still in place and katana in the process of returning to its sheath on her back. The next instant she is sprinting again towards the doll, dodging the remaining arm again with perplexing dexterity in spite of her ribs and her knee, grabbing onto the stump of the arm she has just removed and swinging herself up until.

A furious howl tears its way from Enishi's chest as the woman swings herself feet-first into what is left of the doll's right arm, disappearing amidst the numerous shiny cables.

This is _not_ part of his plan.

* * *

_Oh __gods_, her fucking leg hurt.

Midori kicked her way up the arm's insides, trying hard to ignore the brutal searing agony that was her leg. Just fight through it, keep going, get to the chest and that bastard puppet man -

Her foot, the one attached to her bad leg, connected hard with something solid. Midori's vision went white at the pain, forcing a scream into her throat before she swallowed it back down. What the hell was that?

Before she had time to find out, the doll's one remaining arm was closing its fingers around her head, squeezing just enough to cause excruciating pain and not quite enough to crush her skull like an egg. She was jerked free from the innards of the severed right arm and thrown once again through the air, hitting the ground hard enough to skid backwards several feet before coming to a stop. The world spun crazily around her, the pain from her leg and chest and head combining and strengthening each other until Midori wanted to just pass out to get away from it.

No. She could not let herself pass out. Kenshin must not fight until he fought Enishi. She had to take down this fucking _doll_.

Lying on her back, Midori tilted her pounding head until she was afforded an upside down view of the training dojo and the people around it. The cross-dresser was not fighting Yahiko, although they stood across from each other; in fact, the man had turned fully to watch Midori's battle against his comrade, leaving his back completely exposed – and Yahiko, proud son of a samurai family that he was, was too honorable to strike his opponent when said opponent's back was turned. He stared instead at Midori, horror and awe mixed equally upon his young face. Sanosuke and the man called Bajin were poised as though to resume pounding on each other; the giant zanbatou that was now lying in pieces around their feet seemed to have broken some time ago, as blood ran down both of their faces and stained their hands scarlet. However, like Yahiko and the cross-dressing Otowa Hyouko, both men were staring at her: Bajin with a kind of fascinated incredulity, and Sanosuke with shock and worry.

Her blurry vision skimmed over the two women – only noting that Kaoru appeared to be physically restraining Megumi, who seemed to want to get closer to Midori with the doctor's satchel clutched in her hands – and attempted to focus on Kenshin for a moment before his face became clear.

She was somewhat perplexed to see that he was still sitting perched on the edge of the porch. She had expected him to panic over her wellbeing again. She had expected him to run to her and try to stop her from fighting, anger her with his lack of faith in her abilities and embarrass her in front of all these people for the second time tonight. Instead he merely watched her from beneath his long bangs, a grim set to his mouth and flashes of amber bursting in his eyes.

Oh, so now he was going to decide to have faith in her? Or did he think that she was going to ask him to finish her fight if he didn't do anything until she gave the request?

That man was going to be the death of her one of these days.

Pushing such thoughts from her mind, Midori painfully sat up and examined her battered body. Her clothing was covered in dirt from hitting the ground so many times, and she had coughed blood onto her _gi_ at some point. The palm of her hand was raw from having her grip on the doll's hair being torn free earlier; her knee, head, and the right side of her chest were all throbbing horribly; and her hands were starting to develop tremors.

Wait, what?

Midori stared at her dirty hands, her _katana_ set on the ground next to her. Her hands trembled and shook like the hands of an old one; just as they had done every-so-often for the last year. Just as they did every time she overexerted herself and her heart went crazy, beating much too fast and pumping absurd amounts of adrenaline through her body at an accelerated rate, sending her into seizures and filling her throat and mouth with blood.

Her hands were shaking just as they did twenty minutes or less before her body would shut down and she would pass out. Megumi called these fits 'heart attacks'.

Midori called them a curse.

_Shit_.

Midori began vehemently – if only mentally – cursing the spirit of Makoto Shishio straight to the seventh circle of Hell.

A shadow loomed over her, even as she pushed herself to her feet once again and bent to pick up her weapon.

"You seem to be growing tired, Zetsumei Kurohyou. Perhaps you will simply step aside and allow me to fight the Battousai?" The question, emerging from deep within the hulking one-armed doll, sounded vague and far away. Midori shook her head sharply several times, staggering slightly as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Damn it, damn it, damn it! She most assuredly did not have twenty minutes – more like ten, if she were lucky. She needed to end this quickly. But how? She needed to get to the man, to get past the many built-in defenses and get to the puppeteer who was giving her so much hell. How?

Slowly, sluggishly, the gears in her mind started to turn.

What if…she could get under the skin? Not actually tangled in the gears and cables, but just in between those and the hide of the thing? Cut away at the innards with protected by the very thing that was giving her the most trouble. Underneath that amazing shield of skin, the doll was just a machine. If she could get to the gears of that machine, could damage them in some way, the doll would be useless. If she could disable his weapon and reach the puppet master…well, Kenshin had asked her fairly politely not to kill anyone tonight, but she could at least stab him a few times, right? Didn't he deserve at least a taste of the agony he had put her through with his fucking toy?

Kenshin could bitch about it all he wanted later, but Midori wasn't letting Gein get away without a few relatively serious wounds.

The tremors in her hands were slowly beginning to migrate up her arms. She needed to hurry.

Sinking into a crouch, ignoring the excruciating pain in her right leg, Midori angled her blade so that it was in the correct position to perform a stabbing technique. She had no intention of stabbing the doll, not with her _katana_ at any rate, not point-blank; if the doll's skin was resistant enough to deflect the blow, and if her trajectory was even the slightest bit off, her treasured blade could be broken. All she wanted to do was make _Gein_ think that she wanted to stab the doll.

It worked.

Midori lunged, shooting towards her opponent like a shot fired from a gun. Gein, thinking that she intended to try stabbing through the doll's chest area in an attempt to hit him, manipulated the doll so that its one remaining arm was positioned in front of it to act as a shield. This, however, had been exactly what Midori wanted him to do. Even as the huge appendage was swinging forward to guard the chest area, Midori was stabbing her _katana_ into the ground in front of her. The next second she had placed her foot on the hilt of her upright _katana_, using it as rod off of which she could throw herself skyward. Up she flew, arms flung to the sides; she flipped once, then twice as she fell, diving headfirst towards her foe, aiming for that one spot that could give her the opening she needed, that one place on the doll aside from the stump of an arm that she had managed to cut.

The head.

Once again she grabbed the thin tail of hair in her raw fist, pulling a dagger out of the sleeve of her _gi_ as she did so. Quick as thought she was sawing at the edges of the cut she had left behind, widening it just slightly before clenching the dagger between her teeth and swinging herself out of the way by means of the doll's hair as the arm shot up to smack her again. It twisted, coming towards her, ready to rip her off and toss her away like an old bandage –

And in a move nearly too fast to see, Midori slid under it and into the widened cut, compressing herself between skin and gears and missing the hand by the barest fraction of an inch.

She was in.

So many gears stared back at her even as the skin hugged much too close to her back. Midori knew nothing about the inner workings of this new age's machines; she knew nothing about the ways to identify which gears controlled what parts. She wasn't entirely sure this scheme of hers was even going to work – all she knew was that the tremors were spreading and getting worse, and she absolutely had to finish this fight before she began to seize.

She needed to work fast.

Eyes darting and mind whirring, Midori struggled to move in the too-tight space, a dagger still held between her teeth as she scrambled to find the hem of her _hakama's_ leg. She removed the dagger carefully, slowly lowering it to the hem so as not to somehow get the blade caught in the machinery, and sliced a length of cloth free. She straightened herself, moving carefully and slowly and staying clear of the gears, and placed the dagger back in her teeth as she began tearing the length of cloth into pieces. Soon there were half a dozen chunks of black fabric in her hands.

Not taking the time to think about which gears would be best to block, Midori quickly began stuffing cloth anywhere she could reach. Once, she felt a tug on her finger, followed by and snap and searing pain as she wretched her finger free of the gear that had just broken it, cursing loudly as she did so. Godsdamnit she _hated_ this fucking thing.

From somewhere below her, Midori was aware of Gein's shouting; however, with the edges of her vision doing their level best to go black and the tremors coursing through her entire body, Midori did not have the time or the inclination to listen to whatever it was that Gein had to say.

Suddenly, a terrible shrieking of straining metal could be heard, followed moments later by an ominous groan. With a lurch, the doll slowly came to a stop. Midori's idea had worked.

Moving much more quickly now that she no longer had to worry about losing a finger to a stray gear, Midori crawled her way back to the head, forcing her hand out of the cut and groping around until her hand brushed hair. Latching onto her handhold, Midori slowly managed to pull herself out of the tight space between the skin of the doll and the parts that made it work, many of which were now stuffed with cloth. Swinging free, Midori's legs buckled when she hit the ground; she rolled, coming to a stop in a crouch with her body turned towards the frozen form of the doll. Her teeth, clamped as they were on the blade of her dagger, appeared to be bared in a terrible snarl as she watched for any sign that the thing would begin to move again.

Nothing happened. The doll stayed motionless.

Without wasting a second to congratulate herself, Midori stuffed her trembling right hand up her left sleeve, fishing frantically. She knew they were there, Sanosuke had handed them to her just a few hours ago and she had immediately placed them in her sleeve for safe keeping –

Her hand closed around two small cylinders, and a bloody grin stretched across her face.

The year before, during Makoto Shishio's brief reign of terror, when Midori had traveled by carriage from Kyoto to the docks in Osaka along with Kenshin and Sanosuke in order to stop Shishio's plan to fire upon the city of Tokyo from his iron-clad battleship, it had been Sanosuke who had sunk the ship before it could set sail. How had he done it? With two small, no-spark-start bombs, which he had acquired from an old friend who apparently made bombs for fun in his spare time. Earlier, Midori had passed the room in which Sanosuke had spent the night only to find him rolling two miniscule replicas of the same bombs that had sunk an iron-clad battleship without a problem between his fingers. He had picked them up from his old friend, thinking they might need the fire power. After chewing his ear off for having such dangerous and unstable weapons at the dojo, Midori had confiscated the tiny bombs and given Sanosuke a very serious threat regarding what she would do should she discover him playing with explosives in the dojo again.

Well. Looks like she would have to apologize for that later.

It was child's play to walk up to the now immobilized killer doll, use her dagger to saw two cuts into the doll's skin, bringing the number of cuts up to three, and then proceed to stuff all three of the bombs into the cables that became visible. She was careful not to get too close to the chest, as she didn't really want to kill Gein as much as she wanted to maim him. She jumped back, putting plenty of space between herself and the doll and settling in to watch the show, still grinning like a maniac.

Sanosuke had explained to her – while trying to get his toys back – that his friend had told Sanosuke that these tiny bombs were not as powerful as the first three had been. Yes, they would make a lot of noise; yes, they could damage property if used, whether correctly or incorrectly; but they were not likely to level a city block if Sanosuke dropped one of them by accident. They were effective, but Sanosuke would not be able to sink a battleship with these.

They were, however, apparently sufficient to blow the Iwanbou to pieces.

The head, which had carried one of the explosives, flew apart completely, looking much the way a modern-day balloon looks when popped. Two gargantuan holes blossom upon the doll, one on its left thigh which took off the leg and damaged the right leg significantly, and the second at the shoulder joint of the right arm, taking the doll's only remaining arm with it. For a moment, as Midori watched from barely ten feet away, the doll seemed to sway towards her – as though the master had lost control of the puppet, and the puppet was determined to go forward until it fell at last, face down on the ground in the decimated courtyard with no head and two holes large enough that Midori could see part of one of Gein's arms. Blood trickled in a small brook down one side of the lifeless doll.

Shaking uncontrollably, Midori dropped her dagger and fell on all fours, retching. Blood spewed from her mouth with each heave, worsening the dizziness and the sleepiness and the weakness that seemed to enjoy pestering Midori today. Pain shot through her chest; sweat the temperature of the Arctic Circle bathed her body in seconds.

When frantic hands grabbed her and lifted her up, cradling her against a warm chest as the wind howled past her, Midori didn't bother to try to bitch at Kenshin. He shot back to the dojo with her in his arms, blowing right past Sanosuke and Yahiko without a thought to the possibility that the man and the cross-dresser might try to stop him. Midori grunted as Kenshin set her down as gently as he could, laying her out flat on the training dojo's polished floor. She grunted a second time as he carefully removed the empty sheath from her back, her hazy green eyes clearing slightly as she struggled to sit up. A pair of well-manicured hands attempted to stop her while a female voice rattled on about blood loss and fractures, but Midori shook the hands away as her eyes darted about the dark courtyard, trying to find her _katana_. That doll hadn't fallen on it, had it?

Calloused fingers carefully gripped her shoulder; Midori cast her gaze up to Kenshin's face, calmer than she thought it would be with only the tightness around his eyes and mouth as an indication of his stress. She tried to grin at him and failed, her face contorting into a grimace as Megumi began probing at her broken ribs. Midori growled softly; this was why she hated doctors.

"My _katana_," she rasped out, yelping involuntarily when Megumi's probing fingers sent a jolt of pain through Midori's left side.

Kenshin was gone and back again in a flash, Midori's _katana_ in his hand. Quickly he slid it into its sheath and handed it to her, apparently ignoring the evil looks his actions were earning him from the lady doctor. His hand then found its way to her shoulder, and this time Midori allowed herself to be gently pressed down until she was flat on the floor. Kenshin moved so that he sat cross-legged at her head, which he carefully picked up and placed in his lap.

"Just relax, _kabu_," he murmured, running his hands gently through her hair as Megumi pulled her _gi_ out of her _hakama_ and spread it open; the doctor then patted the fabric until she unearthed another of Midori's daggers, which she used to begin cutting away at the bandages that covered Midori's torso from collarbone to smallest rib.

That done, the doctor carefully rolled up the right leg of Midori's hakama until it bared her leg from ankle to mid-thigh. Midori, hearing Megumi's sharp intake of breath and curious as to the damage she had sustained, removed Kenshin's fingers from her hair and painfully sat upright again.

Midori spat out a word that had Megumi staring at her in horror even as Kenshin sputtered.

Her left side was already turning black, where it wasn't a dark and angry purple. One look was all that was necessary to know that her ribs were indeed broken. Her knee, as she had suspected, was greatly swollen, puffy and turning a dark purple of its own that was a truly unflattering color on Midori's skin.

She was _hideous_.

To hell with Kenshin's requests – Midori was going to _slaughter_ that fucking toy-maker.

* * *

Enishi lowers the scope that had been pressed to his eye, brow furrowed with displeasure. The woman's body looks like shit. That was not part of his plan; he had been sure that Battousai would not let the woman fight. She was only supposed to be a spectator. She was not supposed to sustain such extensive injuries.

This will make things slightly more difficult. Gein will have to have to make some last minute adjustments. This woman is doing a fine job of making Enishi's jinchu harder than it should be.

He doesn't understand her at all. Zetsumei Kurohyou is a paradox; she loves the man she should hate, is fighting Enishi when she should be on his side, hates his _onee_-_sama_ when she can make Tomoe weep for her pain – none of that makes any sense to Enishi. Nothing she has done during their brief acquaintance makes sense.

It must be the Battousai. He has truly twisted the woman, so that she does the opposite of what is best for her. He has poisoned her until she is prepared to die for him, while he sits idly by and watches her suffer. And the clincher is that the woman does not see that this is _wrong_.

Suddenly, Enishi understands. He understands why his _onee_-_sama_ cries for Zetsumei Kurohyou. He understands why the woman is important. He understands what he must do.

Tomoe is crying for Zetsumei Kurohyou because the assassin is _exactly the same as Tomoe_. Both women were brainwashed into loving a monster. Both had every reason in the world to want to see him die. Tomoe lost her life because of the Battousai, and now Zetsumei Kurohyou is setting herself up to do the same.

And Tomoe is weeping because she fears that no one will save Zetsumei Kurohyou, just as no one was there to save Tomoe.

But Enishi is here now. Enishi understands now.

As he gazes down at the battlefield below him, Enishi lets the corner of his mouth curl up just the slightest bit before closing his eyes. Zetsumei Kurohyou snarls at him, tears running down her face as her accusing eyes spear his soul. But Enishi just smiles, happy now that he know how to help this woman, how to get his _onee_-_sama_ back.

"I will free you from his hold, Zetsumei Kurohyou," he whispers, his teeth flashing in the darkness.

"I will free you, and neither you nor my _onee_-_sama_ will ever cry because of him again."

* * *

A/N: Please review and tell me what you think.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

The woman is not moving.

Enishi ignores the fights going on below him; he doesn't care what happens to that idiot Bajin or that coward Otowa. They are no longer important. Should they survive their battles, Enishi will kill them himself; they know too much about him to be left alive now. No, the only three that matter in Enishi's plans right now are Gein, the Battousai, and Zetsumei Kurohyou.

And at the moment, Zetsumei Kurohyou is laid out on the floor of the Kamiya's training dojo. From this distance, Enishi is unable to tell whether or not she is breathing. Surely that fight against Gein was not so strenuous that it has killed her? Surely if she were dead, the Battousai would at least pretend to care? Shed a few fake tears over her corpse, as a mockery of her the way he mocked Enishi's _onee-sama _after killing her?

She must be alive; she must just have passed out. His spies have brought him stories of seeing the woman collapse in the middle of the street, unconscious between one step and the next and leaving her companions to fret over her. He knows from the reports he has been given that she was stabbed through the heart by the madman Makoto Shishio; perhaps the wound still weakens her? If that is the case, it will be of aid to Enishi; he needs the woman to stay out of the way now. There is no need for her to get hurt anymore. Soon Enishi will have her in his grasp, away from the monster who has twisted her mind and somewhere safe where he can take care of her until _onee-sama _will smile at him again. She must stay out of the way now.

He watches with little interest as the fist-fighter Zanza knocks out Bajin. The muscle-man had always been an annoyance to Enishi, low on brains and possessing a mouth that never seemed to close. It's something of a relief for Sagara to shut him up. Cold eyes drift lazily to Otowa – such a pathetic man to so enjoy hurting a child. He expects that will be another scar on the Battousai's soul, when Otowa kills the brat as the Battousai sits and watches.

Surprisingly, it is the boy who is victorious. It is the boy who is still standing when the dust clears – unsteady on his feet from blood loss, but standing for a moment before he collapses. It is Otowa who is sprawled unconscious or dead in the dirt, a stupid look of stunned incredulity upon his face. Pathetic that this man used so many of his little toys against the boy, hung the boy up by way of Otowa's hidden Rokudouko, and still managed to be defeated. Such a sad excuse for a man he is.

So it seems that the boy will live after all. Enishi watches, a smirk tugging his lips, as the Battousai carries the boy to a section of the courtyard that has not been destroyed during Zetsumei Kurohyou's fight with Gein's doll. He watches as the lady doctor rushes forward with her bag of tools, snapping insults at Sagara and puffing like a fish as he retaliates.

A voice cuts through the air, arrogant and insulting and unfamiliar. Enishi glances around the courtyard beneath him in search of the speaker; he had not counted on someone else showing up. Which of the Battousai's other friends is this?

Ah. Not a friend, but another animal.

A wolf.

Hajime Saito, former leader of the Third Squad of the Shinsengumi. Now living under the alias of Goro Fujita, an officer in the Japanese police force - the proverbial wolf in sheep's clothing. Enishi has been told that Saito was one of the men who aided the Battousai in his battle against Makoto Shishio, though more out of duty than anything else. All reports show that the animosity between the former assassin of the Ishin Shishi and the former leader of the Shinsengumi is as high as it ever was. So why is the wolf here tonight?

Not that it matters.

Enishi's eyes slid slowly to the side, watching the last of his pawns as the pawn exits his own balloon with all the stealth of a shadow. The smirk on his lips grows larger; he focuses again on his most hated brother-in-law to see that the Battousai is gazing up at him, fists clenched at his side.

The Battousai has been made aware of the pawn, too.

"Don't look so worried," Enishi calls, not able to resist the chance to mock the man he hates more than anything else in this world. "I didn't come this far just to launch a surprise attack."

A slight pause, as the smirk morphs into a full-out grin.

"At least, _I _wouldn't."

The words are barely out of his mouth before the Battousai is spinning towards the dojo, calling for the Kamiya wench to run even as he darts towards her. The grin stays in place, even as Enishi's foe reaches the dojo, even as he grabs the Kamiya girl and darts away. Even as the elongated hand bursts through the dojo's ceiling and pelts towards the unconscious figure of Zetsumei Kurohyou, Enishi continues to grin.

And when he sees the look on the Battousai's face, as the Battousai realizes that he has forgotten his pet and that she is now helpless…

Enishi cannot help but laugh in triumph.

* * *

The first thing to register when Midori woke was the sound of someone shouting.

The second was the sensation of hanging in midair.

When Midori opened her eyes to see that she was indeed hanging in midair, and the world was no longer spinning in dizzying circles, and that one of the figures standing below her in the courtyard was none other than Hajime Saito, she began to wonder if she were truly awake or just having an extremely bizarre dream. Was this a hallucination of some kind, brought about by blood loss and having her head pinched between the impossibly strong fingers of the puppeteer's doll? A nightmare perhaps, since Saito was here?

"Put her down! Kabu! Don't move!"

"Hm. Still getting yourself into trouble, _youma_?"

Nope, not a nightmare.

Having confirmed to herself that she was indeed awake, Midori attempted to turn and see what –exactly – she was currently hanging on. Something wickedly sharp jabbed several places in her back when she tried to move, accompanied by the tearing of cloth as her gi was shredded. Midori stilled, confusion clouding her already fuzzy mind even as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

_Danger_.

"I wouldn't move if I were you, Zetsumei Kurohyou," a gravelly voice hissed in her ear. "Not unless you wish to die early."

"Kabu!"

Green eyes wandered down to rest on the furious, snarling redhead standing in the courtyard.

"Don't move!" he yelled, his indigo eyes flashing with worry.

Midori couldn't suppress a snort at his oh-so-helpful command. _Yes, thank you, Kenshin. I would never have guessed that would be a bad idea with the sharp objects digging into my back._

Tired of being told to stay still like a child – and of hanging around like she was – Midori swung her legs back. Her feet connected with the wood of the training dojo's walls as the sharp things that had previously only poked her stabbed into her skin. Using her foothold, Midori launched herself forward and away, unconcerned with the sounds of fabric tearing or the barest hint of a breeze penetrating the bindings around her torso. Flipping once in the air, Midori came to a graceful landing right in front of Kenshin. She had forgotten, however, about her recently abused knee-cap; it was therefore a slight shock as the pain shot up her leg and caused her to stagger, stumbling forward to bump clumsily into Kenshin's waiting arms.

"Ow," she commented, extracting herself from Kenshin's arms and turning carefully to look up at her former captor. The buzz of Kenshin's voice in her ears was akin to the buzz of a mosquito: easily ignored as he tried to ask if she were alright, and just as easily ignored when he suggested that she should sit down at once. Her attention was focused solely on the bizarre creature perched like a bird of prey on the edge of the dojo's roof.

He was undoubtedly one of the strangest men Midori had ever seen. His skin, oddly enough, appeared to be red in hue; a black material, looking like some kind of shiny cloth bandage, was wrapped tightly around him from waist to mid-thigh as the only form of clothing. More of the wrapping was to be found on his hands, which added to his oddity: both of his arms were much longer than normal, his left even longer than the right. His legs, she noted, were also much longer than could be found on a normal person. Both feet and one hand were concealed within odd, boot like coverings that made him look weirdly as though he had three feet. His left hand, however, sported a glove upon which five sharp blades acted as fingers; she could see dark blots of her blood on the blades that had just dug into her.

Very, _very _weird man. Midori wondered what it said about Kenshin that he always seemed to draw attention from the freaks.

Potential opponent analyzed, Midori painfully turned so that she could hobble closer to Saito, wincing both in pain and in annoyance as the smoke of his cigarette stung her sensitive nose. He smirked at her, his icy yellow eyes as guarded as ever.

"My, my, _youma_. Have you grown too soft in the past year playing house with the Battousai?" Saito puffed deeply on his cigarette, purposely blowing the smoke right in her face. "Did your leash choke your spirit, or are you just weak?"

Ignoring his rude questions – she had spent over a month with the man the year before, and had grown immune to his many insults – Midori glanced around until she spotted the familiar sheath of her _katana_, buried under some junk that may once have been part of the training dojo's ceiling. Trying not to put too much weight on her injured knee, Midori carefully stalked to the pile of rubble and extracted her weapon, again ignoring Saito's snide comment about crippled house-pets. Now armed, Midori shot a bored – if hazy – look at her long-time enemy, sizing him up in a glance.

"What are you doing here? Surely you didn't stop by in the middle of the night to insult me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," was the curt reply, as Megumi stepped up to Midori and took her arm; apparently the doctor was going to insist that Midori get off of that bad leg. "I have more pressing concerns than bantering with a dead little girl."

Midori glared, the gesture not as effective when she was sitting on the ground with Megumi fussing around her. "Then hurry up and finish your business so you can leave. I have enough annoyances around me tonight without the addition of a wolf that never ceases to growl."

Before Saito could retort, a cry of "Kabu!" had Midori twisting on the ground, putting the kneeling figure of Megumi to her back and yanking her _katana_ out of its sheath just in time to block the claws of the insanely long arm of her newest opponent.

"Dropping your guard around your enemy is foolish, Zetsumei Kurohyou!" Midori was disgusted when a freakishly long tongue snaked out of the man's mouth, seeming to almost wag back and forth as he talked and slipping over his dagger-sharp teeth. She pushed him awkwardly away and swung at him, only to miss as he dodged and sprang out of range.

"Are all of you cowards, to attack a woman who is injured when her back is turned?" Midori demanded, exasperated and annoyed in equal measures. Surely this freak show had witnessed her battle against the puppet master, and therefore knew that she was hurt? Whatever happened to chivalry, for _kami's_ sake?

Her annoyance grew to see that the creep wasn't even listening to her, instead spouting words from that disgusting mouth at Kenshin and Kaoru where they both crouched closer to the training dojo. So the freak thought to attack her and then ignore her, adding insult to injury. Well, Midori would be more than happy to return the favor.

Saito, however, seemed to have other ideas; when Midori went to stand, a gloved hand came from nowhere to shove her roughly back to the ground as the heartless police officer strode past her, new cigarette clamped firmly between his thin lips. Midori growled threateningly, enraged when the bastard smirked at her over his shoulder. Why had she not killed him last year?

"Why don't you sit back with the women and children, _youma_, and make sure they don't get into trouble?"

Speaking over Sanosuke's indignant 'Hey!' from behind her, Midori snarled at the man who seemed set on making himself the bane of her existence. "Didn't your mother teach you how to act around women, bastard!"

"Yes, but I paid more attention on her lessons regarding what to do with rabid animals or haunting spirits. So be a good _youma_ and shut up before I exorcise you."

Son of a bitch.

Ignoring her as Midori cursed him, Saito waltz over to stand beside the now-standing Kenshin, rudely waving Kaoru back to sit with the 'women and children'. "I came to ask what your connection to Enishi Yukishiro was, but I suppose there's no need. You keep the worst company, Battousai."

"Hello, Saito. Why are you here?"

Saito snorted, puffing once more on his cigarette. "Hm. I'm on the task force that's been trying to find out where Makoto Shishio acquired that battleship of his, so we can wrap up that mess from last spring. We traced it to that man up there."

Here he took his smoke from his mouth and waved it nonchalantly through the air, indicating Enishi over his head. The cigarette went back into his mouth before he continued.

"Shishio's uprising was put down just at the point when Japan was growing strong enough to resist foreign powers. The opening of a gate for kindling like weapons or what have you to enter from the closest direct point of contact with the outside world – namely Shanghai – is extremely unfortunate to say the least."

The slight smirk that had been present on Saito's face disappeared, and he spat the spent cigarette to the ground. "This man's very existence is a threat to Japan."

Midori strained her eyes in the darkness, watching as Kenshin turned his head to regard his former rival. "You intend to kill Enishi?"

Saito shrugged unconcernedly, already searching his pockets for another smoke. "Well, now, Battousai, whether I want to kill him, arrest him, or exile him, first we'll have to drag him to the ground. Any ideas?"

Kenshin nodded once, sliding his sheathed _sakabatou_ into his cloth belt so that it rested at his hip. "He will come down if we defeat all of his underlings."

That smirk was back, even as Saito turned his cold gaze to the freak of a man perched on the roof of the dojo. "So, there is one monster left for me."

Midori started to grin. Oh, she knew that tone, that snide and condescending tone that was designed to make the person being spoken of feel like he or she was lower than dirt. This was going to be fun to watch.

From the rooftop, the gravelly voice barked a question at the ants beneath it. "Who the hell are you?"

Another snort; Saito was really enjoying this mess tonight, Midori mused. "A monster has no right to say that to me."

Midori started snickering and couldn't stop.

Oh, yeah, this was going to be _lots_ of fun to watch.

* * *

The woman is alright.

Enishi scowls to himself, dark eyes darting from the smartass police officer to the hunched woman. He dislikes the way his thoughts continue to return to the woman. He will have her safely away from here soon enough; there is no reason to dwell on her right now. He needs to prepare himself for his upcoming fight with the Battousai.

He hates to admit it, but Enishi is slightly worried. Due to the interference of the Battousai's little friends, Enishi will have to fight him while he is completely rested instead of worn out from several battles. He has not had a chance to see any of the Battousai's moves for himself, and will therefore have to rely on second-hand information. He is confident in his own abilities, but he knows that the legends of the Battousai's strength and speed are not merely fiction. He had counted on getting at least a glimpse of those things that made the man a horror figure before fighting him; now he will have to go in somewhat blind.

Enishi forces these thoughts away. He will not be defeated. He _will _complete his Jinchu. He _will_ avenge his _onee-sama_.

A howl of rage draws his attention, as the last of his pawns - Yatsume - dives towards the police officer, his extra-long left arm drawn behind him like a cat's paw posed to strike.

Enishi focuses once more on the last of the preliminary fights, refusing to dwell on the woman, the snag in his plans, or any insignificant fears that he will be beaten.

He will _not_ be beaten.

He will _win_.

* * *

Midori hunched her body around the bloody mess that was Yahiko, shielding him as dirt and stone rained down upon them. The freak had leapt towards Saito, arm drawn out behind him; the next moment, Midori was covering Yahiko's unconscious form as the elongated limb flung a ditch-full of dirt into the air. Carefully raising her head while keeping the boy as covered as possible, Midori fixed her eyes on the stranger, who had boastfully identified himself by his clan name of Yatsume. He was crouched in front of Saito, who looked bored and disconcertingly un-intimidated and had not moved a muscle in the face of that first attack.

Midori realized that she was still smirking, and had to work to suppress the amused laughter fighting to get out of her chest. The old saying 'dig your own grave' popped to mind as she glanced at the long furrow of displaced earth, and she was unable to completely keep down her snickers.

Next to her, Midori could hear Megumi whispering to Sanosuke.

"It looks like he's decided to help Ken-san."

Midori gave the doctor a look that plainly told her to get real. Sanosuke broke in before Midori could open her mouth, however; he had seen her look and no doubt deduced that whatever she might have to say would doubtlessly be impolite.

"Nah, I think he just wanted a fight."

Megumi's face fell slightly.

"Yes, I suppose that is a more likely possibility."

Midori snorted, trying to adjust her sore body into a more comfortable position while not leaving Yahiko unprotected. More likely indeed. The day Saito offered to help Kenshin – or anyone, for that matter – out of the goodness of his heart was the day Midori finally turned into a true demon and dragged the entire nation of Japan through a portal to Hell with only her little finger.

From in front of them, the gravelly voice of the freak Yatsume could be heard to speak. "How was it? You see, I'm not a monster; I'm just more than human."

Yes, and that was so much different, wasn't it.

Saito was standing at ease before his opponent, his back to Midori and one hand resting casually against the hilt of his _katana_. Just from the way the arrogant man was standing Midori could tell that Saito was not impressed. From where Midori crouched over Yahiko, the sigh that Saito heaved was perfectly clear.

"Tell me: those fangs of yours? Is that body refinement, like what you've done to your arms and legs?"

Yatsume hesitated for a long moment before answering, as though he suspected that Saito's question was not as innocent as it sounded. "…Yes. They were ground down to points bit by bit since my childhood. My clan uses bone and ash to harden our teeth."

"And the tongue? Is that also body refinement?"

"…No. It is the tongue I was born with."

Midori stuck a fist into her mouth to stop her laughter even as Saito smirked triumphantly. "I see. So then, you really are a monster."

The freak Yatsume's body tensed so fast it hurt to watch him. Apparently the word 'monster' was not a welcome sound to his ears, if his screamed threat to kill Saito was anything to go by. Saito did not seem worried in the least, pulling his _katana_ free of its sheath with an almost lazy move.

"Kill? You?" The bored disbelief in Saito's voice sent the freak into a frenzy, drool dripping from that disturbingly long tongue to fall in a growing puddle on the ground below. "Kill me? You obviously don't know who you are talking to, monster. Either that or you have been sorely misinformed as to your own limits. Both, however, I can easily rectify."

"I'LL KILL YOU!"

"You seem to be supremely amused, for a woman who should be in a hospital with those wounds," Megumi commented, eyeing the smirking Midori where she was still crouched protectively over the bloody and unconscious form of Yahiko. Midori spared the doctor a glance before refocusing on the combatants in front of her.

"Of course. I was stuck with that insufferable man for a month after Shishio died, and he seemed to delight in insulting my every breath," she explained, grinning as Saito nonchalantly waved aside another shouted death threat from his freak of an opponent. "You have no idea how nice it is to hear that derisive wit of his directed at someone else."

"Do you think he'll win, _aibou_, or am I going to have to jump in and save his ass in a minute?" This from the slouched figure of Sanosuke, looking bloody and battered from his own fight but standing next to Megumi's kneeling form as comfortably as a man without a care in the world. She was pleased to hear her friend use his occasional nickname for her, apparently remembering her threat of phyical injury to whoever was stupid enough to say her name before this mess was over and the strangers were dead or gone.

Midori did not answer right away; instead, she allowed herself a moment to assess the stranger Yatsume as he screamed at Saito, who looked as calm and bored as ever. Yatsume would have a much longer than usual striking range, due to the elongated left arm and the claws attached to it. If he stayed at a distance to strike, Saito might have a problem. Worse, if Yatsume continued to throw such large quantities of dirt directly into Saito's path, the former Wolf of Mibu would be slowed fractionally; this would in turn reduce the power behind his favorite attack, since the speed with which Saito's _Gatotsu_ was performed was vital in its strength.

But truly, was there any chance that Hajime Saito – former leader of the Third Squad of the Shinsengumi and one of the only people ever to have defeated Zetsumei Kurohyou in battle – was going to allow himself to be beaten by a barbaric body refining technique used by _miners_?

…Nah.

No chance in Hell.

"He will win," Midori assured Sanosuke, even as she picked up the prone body of Yahiko and moved further away from the wolf and his prey; Sanosuke and Megumi followed her as she hobbled painfully towards the seated figure of Kenshin and the standing Kaoru, who was clutching the sheathed _sakabatou _in her hands. "Saito would kill himself before losing to someone like _that_. Just sit back and relax, Sanosuke; Saito can take care of himself."

"I"LL KILL YOU!" Once more the screamed threat pierced the dusty air of the Kamiya Dojo's courtyard.

Midori reached Kenshin, deposited Yahiko gently on the ground, and turned to face Saito just as the police officer slid into a very familiar crouch, frowning in apparent annoyance. "I'm sick of hearing that, monster. If you're going to try it, then hurry up and attack. I don't have all night to play with monsters."

"I'LL KILL YOU!"

This time Saito said nothing; instead, he launched himself forward into a _Gatotsu_, aiming to stab Yatsume in the abdomen. At the same time, Yatsume's overlong arm dug it's clawing into the earth of the courtyard, spraying a tidal wave of earth at the approaching Saito. Behind the ensuing cloud of dust, Midori could barely see the two men, thus missing the opportunity to see if either of them had injured the other. They shot out of opposite ends of the cloud, their feet dragging as they forced their bodies to come to a standstill.

For a moment, it appeared that neither attack had connected; both men looked perfectly fine, if coated with a fine layer of dust. It was only when Saito turned to again face his opponent that Midori got a good look at the bloody gash now staining his police uniform. She could not help but let a brow raise in surprise: _Saito_ had been _wounded_?

Wonders would never cease.

"Saito," Midori called, unable to keep the unholy amusement out of her voice, and not bothering to stop grinning when he cast an annoyed glance in her direction. "Please tell me that this miner freak is not too much for you to handle. Have _you_ grown soft in the last year, wolf?"

"Be quiet, _youma_," was the waspish reply, sneered out from those thin lips of his. "I do not need your pointless comments."

"It doesn't matter how strong you are, Saito!" Yatsume declared, that disturbingly long tongue of his wagging about once more and dribbling copious amounts of saliva all over the ground. "None who see the body refinement technique of the Yatsume clan can be allowed to live. All who come to know of our secret must die – so I will start with you, Saito, and then the Battousai, and then everyone else here until you are all dead! My clan's secret will be safe!"

"Are you really that much of a fool?"

Saito took another familiar stance, smirking as though his side had not just been cut open. His yellow eyes narrowed, whether in amusement or annoyance Midori was not sure.

"You don't honestly believe that you will have the opportunity to fight the Battousai, do you?" he jeered snidely at the visibly enraged creature before him. "Never mind, I believe that I might understand now – I understand that being a monster such as yourself, you may lack the necessary brain capacity to realize just how in over your head you are, you _baka_."

"I'LL KILL YOU!"

Saito's naturally narrow eyes narrowed even further until they were merely irritated slits of yellow that seemed almost to glow in the dark. "I'm _tired_ of hearing that. Let's get this over with."

Again Saito sank into the _Gatotsu _stance and launched himself forwards; again Yatsume dug a trench in the courtyard with one hand only to send the soil directly towards Saito's attacking figure. An instant later there came a clang of metal on metal, and when the dust cleared again, the two men had actually locked weapons: Saito's _Gatotsu _had hit on Yatsume's metal claws as the freak had made a move to attack, so that Saito's _katana _rested in the clutches of what Midori was convinced was an insane freak with limited vocal skills.

"Ha! Nice try, you bastard, but I am no fool! An attack on the points of my claws will do you no good, Saito! My reflexes will never falter enough to break under your attacks!"

Saito leaned in, a terrible look on his face as he stopped with his nose bare inches from Yatsume.

"My _attack_ starts right now."

And he moved.

Midori, under normal circumstances, might have felt pity for this disgusting freak of a man; she knew the pain of that particular style of _Gatotsu_ all too well. It had beaten her, pinning her to the wall above the floor and completely at the mercy of a policeman she had wanted to kill for fourteen years. She did feel a slight twinge of sympathy: a strike of such power at such close range was excruciatingly painful, as she had experienced for herself last year in Kyoto. She still bore the scars from where the blade had entered through the far right side of her chest and from where it poked through her shoulderblade. Normally, a person could die from the _Gatotsu Zeroshiki_– as Saito had so politely told her during her forced month-long stay with him in Kyoto while she recovered from the debacle with Shishio.

Then again, Midori mused as a blood-curling scream split the still night air, Saito probably didn't normally use such a powerful attack on someone's _hand_.

The power behind the _Gatotsu Zeroshiki _was so great that it lifted Yatsume bodily from the ground, throwing him back a good distance before he landed once more. His hideous screams continued, and Midori could not blame the man for howling so; when he staggered to his knees and held up his elongated left arm, the hilt of Saito's _katana _was plainly visible where it stuck out of his palm. Saito had lodged his _katana _in Yatsume's arm, so that the blade protruded from the elbow while the hilt was on the outside of his palm. The claws on said hand had all shattered like the most fragile glass.

"Oh, that so disgusting…" Megumi whispered, sounding as though she were about to be sick.

"What are you yowling about?"

Saito advanced upon the screaming Yatsume, his hands patting his pockets for cigarettes as though he were merely taking a midnight stroll.

"Stop making that noise, monster. You should be thanking me; I could have just taken the whole arm off at the shoulder."

Faint heaving noises were heard from both Megumi and Kaoru, while Sanosuke swallowed audibly.

"Lucky for you, for monsters there isn't any need for me to fight to my fullest limit," Saito continued blandly, sounding for all the world as though Yatsume should feel immensely fortunate.

"So…is the fight…is it over now?" Kaoru asked hesitantly from her place next to Kenshin, her small hands clutching tightly to the sheath of the _sakabatou_. Midori understood her unease: if the fight was over, it was now time for what that bastard puppet master had termed the 'main attraction'. Kenshin would now have to fight Enishi, if all of the pawns had been taken out.

"NO!"

Midori focused her attention back to Saito and Yatsume just in time to see Yatsume jerk on the hilt of the _katana_ in his arm. For a moment, she thought he would simply remove it and toss it aside; instead, she was amazed to see the freakish man before her jam the _katana_ right back up his arm, letting out another howl as he did so. Was the man crazy?

"Of course," Megumi breathed weakly from her right, sounding shaken and sickened at the same time. "He's using the _katana_ as a shaft to support the broken arm."

Midori's eyes widened in disbelief. The fool wanted to _keep_ _fighting_?

She and Saito seemed to be thinking along the same lines, if the look of annoyance the police officer was currently sporting offered any indications. "Aren't you done yet, monster?"

"NEVER! I've waited fifteen years to fight and kill the Battousai! I would rather die now that run from this fight!"

Saito turned to face Yatsume fully, his shoulders heaving with the kind of sigh a harassed parent gives when dealing with an especially foolish child. "Fine then, just hurry up and die already."

"It's you that's going to die!" screamed Yatsume, even as he bolted lightning-quick away from Saito and in the direction of one of the dojo's still intact buildings. In a flash he was under the building and out of sight.

Midori lowered herself carefully to the ground, trying not to let Megumi or Kenshin see how much her body was hurting. Her chest was throbbing, aching, feeling like it would explode if she moved too suddenly. She mustn't let Kenshin see, he didn't need to be worrying about her when he fought Enishi. She would _not _let him see her pain. Vaguely she registered when the freak burst through the roof of the building he had just gone under, now laughing like a maniac instead of screaming like a banshee. She paid no attention to the words he said; she was tired and hurting and didn't care to listen to a freak while aforementioned freak bragged on endlessly. Saito had better not ask for her help, because if he did, he was screwed.

When the first of the buried bombs went off, Midori quite possibly had ten years scared off of the end of her life. She found herself practically laying over Yahiko, who was still out cold, as the courtyard literally exploded around them. Distantly she registered words in Yatsume's voice, his gloating laughter, the sound of Sanosuke and Megumi both exclaiming in surprise. It wasn't until she heard Saito's voice actually above her head that she looked up, eyes skimming over the decimated courtyard to fix on the airborne figures of both Yatsume and Saito.

"That was really obvious…you _baka_."

Yatsume's scream was cut off rather abruptly when he hit the ground face first. While Saito walked away in a casual manner, dusting off his police uniform, Yatsume did not move at all. Several steps from the freaky man's prone figure, Saito suddenly pivoted and walked back up to his defeated opponent, a smirk plastered on his thin lips.

"I almost forgot," Saito drawled, bending over to pick up Yatsume's limp left arm. "I really do need this back. It's too good a blade to rust from some monster's blood."

Midori watched, her eyebrows high enough to be hidden behind her bangs, as Saito calmly jerked his blood-coated _katana _free of Yatsume's arm. He proceeded to flick the weapon several times, flinging the blood from the blade. It did not appear that the renewed shrieks from Yatsume or the gagging noises from Megumi and Kaoru had any effect on him whatsoever.

Once all the blood had been removed, Saito sheathed his _katana_, stepped over Yatsume's body towards the rest of them, and began patting his pockets for cigarettes.

"So, Battousai, you said he would come down if he defeated all of his men, correct?"

* * *

Enishi watches as the last of his pawns is defeated, the hand around which his weapon's tie is secured tightening its fist in anticipation.

_Now_. It's finally time, time for his Jinchu, it's now, _now_ - !

No. He must remain calm. He cannot allow his excitement at the prospect of finally punishing the man who killed his _onee_-_sama_ to cause him to make mistakes. He must keep his wits about him.

_Onee-sama, are you with me? Are you watching? Onee-sama, I'm going to make him pay, I'm going to get your revenge, just like you wanted, everything for you, everything to make you smile forever, please onee-sama please just one smile just one please smile so I know you're with me…_

And she does. When Enishi finishes adjusting the gas, when the balloon at last sets itself down just inside the destroyed courtyard, when Enishi closes his eyes one more time before leaving the balloon…

Tomoe is smiling at him, that warm and gentle smile he has missed so much for the last week; she smiles happily at him once more, her arms wrapped comfortingly around the sobbing form of Zetsumei Kurohyou.

_Yes, I know, I promise I'll help the woman onee-sama I promise I'll take her away and stop her crying I'll make it stop so please be happy I promise anything for you she won't need to cry anymore I'll take her away just like you want I promise I promise I promise…_

He comes to a stop next to the ruins that were once Gein's Iwanbou, watching serenely as the older man struggles to poke his masked head out of the suit.

"Is it still usable?"

"The Iwanbou? I'm afraid not. The other, however…"

Enishi's cold eyes pierce the orbs behind the mask; he is pleased at the slight hint of caution he sees.

"I am making the adjustments already. It will be prepared in plenty of time."

A wide smile spreads across Enishi's face as he looks up, watching as the silhouette of the man he hates most in the world draws closer to him in the dark and dusty courtyard.

"_Excellent_."

* * *

A/N: Please review and let me know what you think.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

_

* * *

_

_Zetsumei Kurohyou is baffled._

_Silently she watches as the little inn girl exits the room, leaving the plate of…whatever it is sitting close to the killer. She stares for a long moment at the shoji after the girl closes it, and then turns her curious gaze to the dish before her. A frown is pulling at the corners of her mouth._

_She has no idea what kind of food she has just been offered._

_Curiosity piqued, Zetsumei Kurohyou loops a finger through the handle on the jug of sake next to her elbow, carefully scoops up dish of mystery food, and leaves the room as silently as she had entered it an hour earlier._

_The headquarters is crowded, members of other factions of the Ishin Shishi gathering for some important meeting between the clan leaders. They stop whatever they are doing and stare at the female assassin as she passes, still carrying the dish of food and the sake with her katana strapped across her back. She ignores them, and none of them are brave enough to question her as to what she is doing._

_She finds her former partner sitting in the courtyard, alone as he always seems to be. Even now that he is no longer a hitokiri, Himura remains isolated from the other men. Zetsumei Kurohyou thinks that they are afraid of him, as they are afraid of her, and curses them all as cowards._

_Himura eyes her quizzically as she sits beside him on the edge of the porch, taking the dish of food she holds out as an offering._

_"What is this?" She asks the question even as she makes herself comfortable and sets the sake jug between them, so that Himura may drink of it if he wishes._

_Himura is still looking at her as though expecting her to tell him that her question was merely a joke. When she says nothing more, he probes one of the lumps in the dish with a finger._

_"It is ohagi," he tells her, as though that were the most obvious thing in the world. It explains nothing to her._

_"What is ohagi?" The word sticks in her mouth, sounding as awkward as she feels saying it. Himura stares._

_"Kabu," he exclaims, setting the dish beside the sake and shifting so that his upper body is fully facing her. "Surely you have eaten ohagi before?"_

_She thinks for a moment, examining the odd-looking food between them and trying to recall if her Myoushou had ever prepared such a dish. Remembering just how horrible a cook Myoushou had been – including all the flash fires he had started in the kitchens before she was able to learn to use the stove and took over the preparation of meals – she shakes her head in the negative, faintly bemused at the surprise on Himura's face. Is it really so strange that she has never sampled this dish?_

_"But surely your parents –" he stops suddenly, blanching at the fierce look that steals over Zetsumei Kurohyou's face. She has told him little of her parents, but she had informed him of the beatings and the starvation and the little fact that they had sold her into slavery for so trivial a detail as the color of her eyes. Her parents are two of the only things about which she is exceptionally close-mouthed, even to Himura._

_To attempt to cover his slip, Himura picks up one of the lumps from the dish and takes a bite, obviously hoping that she will do the same so that she can take her mind off the thing that distresses her. Hesitantly, Zetsumei Kurohyou takes one of the lumps into her hand. The stuff is sticky against her fingers, the anko covering it messy in her palm. Slowly, unsure of what she is doing, she takes a bite of the ball._

_To her surprise, it is sweet; the rice of the lump soaking in the flavor of the anko to create a pleasing taste. It is, however, extremely sticky, and the assassin realizes quickly that she needs to drink something or she will choke on this treat. Several swallows of sake ease the concoction down her throat, adding to the nice flavor in her mouth._

_"Well? What do you think?" Himura has already finished the whole of his rice lump, and takes the sake out of her hand to take a swig of the liquor himself. Zetsumei Kurohyou eyes the stuff in her hand for a tense moment before popping the whole thing in her mouth, making Himura laugh as she immediately reaches for another._

_"Good," she mutters, ignoring his laughter as she reclaims her sake. The two killers sit together in silence for a while after that, finishing the remaining ohagi and polishing off a good deal of sake in the process. When the last sweet has been split between them, Himura leans his head onto Zetsumei Kurohyou's shoulder with a somewhat melancholy sigh._

_"I'm sorry," he mumbles, for some inane reason sounding as though he is on the verge of tears. His pillow glances at the top of his head out of the corner of one eye, baffled once again._

_"For what?"_

_"It's just – you had such a horrible life –"_

_"So have you, ninjin."_

_"You've never even had ohagi before, Shishou used to make it on New Years –"_

_"Haven't I told you what a disastrous cook Myoushou was? If he had tried to cook this stuff he most likely would have killed us in the resulting fire."_

_Zetsumei Kurohyou brings up her hand to run soothingly over her friend's head, trying hard not to let him know how off kilter she feels. Yes, she has suffered much in her childhood. It embarrasses her that she had never heard of this sweet food that even Himura knows about. But she doesn't want to talk about that. She doesn't want to unlock memories of her pain._

_If she does, she is terrified that she might drown in them._

* * *

Midori was beginning to grow seriously annoyed with Megumi.

"I'm fine," she snapped for the third time, none-too-gently shoving the doctor's hands away from her body. The woman was determined to give Midori a thorough medical examination right there in the middle of Kaoru's destroyed courtyard, ignoring the fact that Enishi Yukishiro's balloon had begun its descent or the fact that Yahiko was bleeding from wounds much worse than Midori's. Even if a certain prick of a police officer wasn't standing ten feet away, Midori would still have rebuffed the doctors' pleas for her to strip. Now was not the time.

"No, Megumi-san!" Midori frowned at the woman as she held the manicured hands away from her, irritated by Megumi's persistance. This was getting old fast.

"You can poke at me to your heart's content later," she snapped letting go of Megumi and quickly dodging behind the nearby Sanosuke. "Leave me alone for now. Tend to Yahiko; he is worse off than I am."

"But –"

"No."

"But I –"

"No!"

"Megumi-san." Kenshin inserted himself between the two women, so that he and Sanosuke now separated the doctor from her unwilling patient. "Please see to Yahiko-chan. And also…"

He turned slightly to gesture to the crumpled wreck that was Yatsume, still out cold where Saito had left him. "Please try to tend Yatsume's wounds."

Megumi was not pleased; storm clouds were gathering behind her annoyed brown eyes as she glared at Kenshin. "Ken-san, I must insist that you force – her – to let me give her an examination! She just had a heart attack! She shouldn't even be moving around, she should be resting –"

"I trust kabu to know her own limitations," Kenshin interrupted, his voice making it clear that there would be no room for objections. "She is skilled at taking care of herself. If she feels that it is unnecessary for you to examine her at this time, I will trust her judgment. Please take care of Yahiko-chan and Yatsume."

Megumi looked as though she would continue to argue for a moment; she shot an angry, worried look at Midori – who was still hiding behind Sanosuke, who was trembling with suppressed laughter at the whole situation – before visibly deflating, her shoulders drooping in defeat as she turned away.

"Fine," she snapped, stomping gracefully over to Yahiko's prone figure. "But if she collapses, I will be telling you that I told you so. Moving around like this in her condition – it's absurd."

She dropped down to kneel elegantly beside Yahiko, pausing long enough to glance once more at Kenshin with a softened look about her face.

"Good luck, Ken-san. Don't worry; I will be prepared to patch you up when you win."

Midori was no longer paying attention as Kenshin made some soothing reply; her eyes and ears were focused in the opposite direction, towards the far end of the courtyard where Enishi Yukishiro had just landed his balloon. The wind had picked up while they had stood waiting for him; dust from the cratered courtyard billowed through the air, obscuring her view of the man as he exited his aircraft. A hazy figure was all she could make out as it steadily approached them, strolling casually towards the upcoming confrontation.

It was clear even now that Enishi was as relaxed as a man on an afternoon picnic, and his calm annoyed the hell out of Midori.

She saw his shape come to a stop beside the ruined mess that was the Iwanbou, laying where it fell after Midori had blown it to pieces. Midori's brow furrowed in question. What was he doing? Why had he stopped?

"…usable…"

Words floated on the strong breeze, teasing Midori with fragmented sentences that made little sense.

"…raid not…however…making the adjustments…plenty of time."

What did that mean? What was usable? What adjustments had to be made? Midori recognized the second voice as belonging to the puppet-master, Gein. She had assumed that the triple explosions that had wounded him had also knocked him unconscious, as she had not seen him exit the tattered remains of his monstrous doll. Had she been wrong? What was he doing in there?

Midori was snapped out of her thoughts by a calloused hand gently squeezing her shoulder, drawing her gaze to the hand's owner. Kenshin stood beside her, all traces of kind look he had given Megumi to placate her gone from his face. His visage was hard, as though carved from stone; his eyes were the indigo that she was so fond of, minus the normal warmth and shot generously with amber sparks.

"I must fight him, kabu," he whispered, his voice as hard and cool as his face. "Only me. You must not interfere."

Midori's eyes narrowed. "I will not allow him to kill you."

"This is my battle, kabu. This dispute must be settled between me and Enishi. No one else must get involved."

Midori was inclined to agree with him, but that did not change her reply. "I will not allow him to kill you."

The ghost of a smile lightened the shadows on Kenshin's face for a short moment. "Old age or your _katana's_ edge, correct, kabu?"

An answering smirk stole across Midori's lips. "Exactly. I will intervene only if he has beaten you to the point of near-death. Otherwise you will be on your own, Himura."

His hand still present on her shoulder, squeezed again. "I would like for you to say my name again, kabu. I miss that name in your voice."

She ducked away, grinning mischievously at him as she backed up out of his reach. "I'll speak your name again, _Himura_, after this is over and I've beaten you to a pulp for all the stress you've caused me. Until then you will have to make do with _nin_-_jin_."

She drew the syllables in his nickname out until they were almost separated words, the tone of her voice causing Sanosuke to howl with laughter and Kenshin to flame the color of his hair as he glanced in Saito's general direction. The former Shinsengumi captain looked utterly bored with the whole conversation, staring off into space as he smoked yet another of his seemingly endless supply of cigarettes. Kenshin glared briefly at Midori before sighing in defeat, pinching the bridge of his nose as he turned to walk away.

"Why, _kami_?" she heard him mutter somewhat darkly. "Why must you torture me so?"

Sanosuke was laughing so hard tears were forming in the corner of his eyes, while Saito took a deep draw from his fresh cigarette and let out his breath in a huff of smoke.

"_Bakas_," he muttered, glaring from Kenshin's retreating back to Sanosuke to Midori. "Complete _bakas_, the lot of you."

Sanosuke merely continued to laugh until a distraught and nervous Kaoru whopped him smartly on the side of the head with her _bokken_, her large blue eyes glittering somewhat madly in the dim light of the stars.

* * *

Enishi hears laughter coming from in front of him, even as the Battousai strides towards him out of the swirling dust. It is a man's laughter, out of place in this somber atmosphere in this decimated courtyard. It cuts off rather quickly, Enishi notices, with an undignified squawk as though the laugher has been silenced forcibly.

Distraction ended, Enishi focuses all of his attention on the approaching figure. This is it. This is the true beginning of his Jinchu, the final step in his revenge for the murder of his beloved _onee_-_sama_. He watches coldly as his hated brother-in-law draws near; soon that monster will know the pain that his actions fostered in Enishi. He will pay for his crimes tonight.

"Enishi."

It galls him to hear his name, the name his _onee_-_sama_ spoke with love, coming out of that man's mouth. The Battousai dirties Enishi's name just by speaking it. He dirties Enishi with his crimes just by standing in front of him.

Enishi smirks. Soon he will be cleansed.

"I don't suppose there's any need to ask you if you still have a problem with fighting me," he jeers, sneering at this most hated man with supreme confidence. He will win. He _must_ win. The gods will give him this victory; they will ensure the completion of his Jinchu. Enishi _will_ win.

"No."

The Battousai actually sounds weary, as though he had been in any of the earlier fights and is tired from the strain. Enishi wonders just what exactly the bastard did while his friends were beaten half to death that was so very tiring to him. He has done nothing but allow his pathetic little friends to suffer for him.

"I'll fight you with all of my power, Enishi. I will find the answer of how to atone…both for the sins of being a _hitokiri_, and for the crime of killing Tomoe."

Enishi snarls at this last, infuriated beyond anything he has felt all week. How dare this animal speak his _onee_-_sama's_ name? How dare he dirty his _onee_-_sama_ by speaking of her at all?

"_Atone_?" Enishi spits, hands fisting tighter and tighter by the second. "You want to find atonement? If that's what you seek, Battousai, then I have an answer for your quest."

He smirks once again at the confusion on the bastard's face. _Atonement_, he wants _atonement_ for killing Enishi's _onee_-_sama_?

"I have…chosen…the cruelest form of revenge for you."

He is chuckling now, his sentence interrupted by the sounds of his twisted mirth.

"But first, I'm going to make you _suffer_. I'm going to make you _feel_ _the_ _pain_ you forced upon my _onee_-_sama_, when you sliced her up like a slab of meat. I'm going to make you feel that pain, Battousai!"

He undoes the clasp to his short cloak, flinging the garment aside and letting the wind carry it away as he quickly strips the wrappings from his weapon. He hefts his precious blade, running his left hand down the outside of the sheath in a loving manner. Yes, this will work, he will destroy the Battousai with this very blade…

With one swift movement, Enishi removed the _tachi_ from the sheath and tosses the covering aside. Several deft flicks of his wrist bring the _tachi_ to his shoulder, even as Enishi takes the stance required for his long-since-mastered _watoujustu_. He waits, grinning cruelly at the Battousai, waiting for the other man to make the first move.

Battousai, however, has other ideas.

"Those dark glasses you're wearing –" – and his voice is changing, just like the reports have said, his voice is changing growing deeper more feral more _dangerous_ – "– you should remove them first. You could hurt your eyes if you fight with those on."

Enishi's grin falters briefly, unsure as to the Battousai's intent. What does the monster care whether Enishi damages his eyesight? Shouldn't he want Enishi at a disadvantage?

It must be a trick. That's it; he is trying to trick Enishi into believe that a heartless murderer can actually care for Enishi's well-being. Devious bastard.

"You don't need to worry about that," he assures Battousai, grin firmly back in place and larger than ever. "You won't even be able to get a hit in."

And with that Enishi is moving, his surroundings a blur as he pelts towards the Battousai. The Battousai stands stock-still, not moving, not taking those damnable eyes off of Enishi, watching with the same eyes that watched his _onee_-_sama_ die. Enishi swings, ready, knowing that any moment the Battousai will dodge –

And he does. Disappearing as Enishi's blade should have cut him in half, the Battousai takes to the air, one hand grasping the hilt of his _sakabatou_ and pulling it from its sheath with amazing speed. Enishi brings up his _tachi_, bracing himself for the blow. The two blades seem to scream as their surfaces collide, sending out a small shower of sparks as the attack is deflected and the blades separate. Again Enishi raises his blade as the Battousai raises his own; both men letting out a brief shout as the adrenaline hits them –

And Enishi is pushing the Battousai back, not giving him time to attack as he swings and swings. Small pieces of cloth fly as Enishi nicks the tie of the Battousai's _hakama_, as he nicks the pathetic magenta _gi_. Easy, easy, this is much too easy.

Ah. So the Battousai does have reservations about this duel of theirs.

"Were you planning to test me first?" he sneers at his foe, grinning madly as he pushes forward again. "Why not show me this amazing _Hiten Mitsurugi_-_ryu_ I've heard so much about? Or shall I show you some of my techniques? Which one, Battousai? Who goes first?"

"Enishi –"

"Too late!"

Enishi shot forward, one leg propelling his body as the other came up to kick his _tachi_ into connection with the Battousai's _sakabatou_, which the monster had brought up across his chest in a defensive move. And it works, it works as it should, and Enishi cannot help the smirk of triumph as the Battousai is thrown backwards, thrown away like the piece of trash that he is. Enishi cannot help but laugh in victory as he shows his superiority over the Battousai.

"How do you like that, Battousai?" he taunts, grinning in cruel satisfaction as the Battousai struggles to extract himself from the chunk of rock wall he was just thrown into, his body jammed into the crater that fits his shape perfectly.

"All thanks to you, Battousai!" he laughs, enjoying himself immensely as his most hated enemy struggles to righten himself. "That strength is what I've developed during the last decade in Shanghai; the strength of _watoujustu_, which I have perfected along with my use of this _tachi_."

He taps the flat of his weapon against his shoulder.

"Don't you find it funny, Battousai? That I, a Japanese man who rules the mafia of China with an iron fist, should use a Japanese blade with a Chinese _kenjutsu_ style? For that bit of misfortune, you have no one to blame but yourself!"

The Battousai says nothing. He stands before Enishi as silent as a statue, those damned indigo eyes staring hard as though to discern all of Enishi's secrets. He should be using the opportunity to attack, or at least preparing a defense; instead he stands there with one hand on the hilt of his pathetic _sakabatou_, the other hanging uselessly at his side.

"Satisfied that I can take care of myself?" Enishi spits, looking down his nose at the shorter man. His insides are rolling with the inaction of the moment; Battousai is right there, his _onee_-_sama's_ killer is right in front of him he needs to kill the bastard gut him slice him spray his blood around this courtyard –

"We can begin when you remove those glasses." The calm, controlled rumble of his voice tears Enishi out of his increasingly bloodthirsty thoughts. "It is dangerous to fight with such apparel. One wrong move will leave you blinded for life."

Enishi gives an involuntary bark of laughter, amazed at how far that monster is willing to go to sound like he actually possesses a heart.

"Are you that confident, Battousai?" he sneers, deliberately pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose even as his right hand tightens on the hilt of his _tachi_. "You think that I will allow you to strike me? _You_ will be the injured party when the dust settles, Battousai. Jinchu is for _you_."

"All the same, I am only doing what I must to stop you." The butcher actually raises his hands slightly at his waist, as though to assure Enishi that he means no harm. "I do not wish to cripple you."

Damn it; why will he not become angry? Enishi wants him furious, wants him fighting like the animal that he is, wants all of that godsdamned restraint _gone_. He wants to destroy the _Battousai_. The man in front of his is not his opponent in the truest sense of the word.

Enishi wants to make the bastard _angry_.

"Well, brother-in-law," he sneers, the words leaving a horrid taste in his mouth, "it's been over a decade, why don't we catch up? Let me tell you a story."

And he moves again, even as the Battousai moves, blade slicing through air and connecting only to retract and repeat the process. Sparks fly, the Battousai is pushed back, and Enishi strengthens his attacks as the Battousai retreats in search of better footing. Enishi will not give the bastard a chance to attack yet. First, it is time for a story.

"A long long time ago in a land far away…"

His voice is gentle, almost crooning, like a mother telling a beloved child an old bedtime story.

"There was a young man whose _onee_-_sama_ was slain by a _hitokiri_."

The Battousai deflects another attack, the look upon his face changing subtly. The color of his eye has started to darken. Enishi grins.

"The sad young man, all alone, hated Japan and crossed over to Shanghai on the continent. But Shanghai is a demon city of the East, and for one so young and weak, living was _very_ hard."

The countermoves are growing sloppy, the Battousai completely focused on the words Enishi is speaking.

"He starved nearly to the point of death. In less than a month, the poor lonely little boy was reduced to just skin and bones."

"Stop it." The words are growled, the voice harsh and bordering on cruel, the eyes peering at him across the blade flecked heavily with amber. "Stop it, Enishi. I don't want to hear this anymore."

Enishi smirks widely, shoving the other man away and launching into a slow version of one of the attacks of _watoujutsu_. "Oh, but you seem to still not be ready to fight, Battousai! Aren't we still warming up? Don't you want to hear my story while we stretch?"

It is clear by the look upon the Battousai's face that he does not wish for this particular story to continue. Enishi ignores this, speaking again with that same crooning tone that he remembers from growing up with his beautiful _onee_-_sama_. This is one story he will force his audience to hear.

"Bogged down by starvation, illness, wounds, and exhaustion, the young man fell at last and was unable to move. Thinking that now he would die, he was pleasantly surprised to be saved by a wealthy couple passing in their fancy carriage. The couple was Japanese, rich, the upper crust of the filth of Shanghai. They took the young man into their home; fed him and clothed him and gave him medicine until he was well. He slept alongside their children; he ate from the same table."

He sees the confusion on the Battousai's face, hears the distant voices of the Battousai's friends as they make the usual assumptions. Surely this means that Enishi was safe and happy? Surely this kind Japanese family took care of him and treated him as their own?

His next words kill those assumptions and puts horror on the Battousai's face.

"And all that time, the young man thanked all the gods and Buddha that he had been given such wonderfully gullible prey."

He remembers what it felt like, that first time he took a life. He remembers watching the light go out behind the rich man's eyes and wondering if that was how it looked when _onee_-_sama_ died. He remembers relishing the death of the rich woman, who had been alive when _onee_-_sama_ was not, and who was nothing but shit under _onee_-_sama's_ feet. He had been glad to kill them.

"He took all of the family's riches, pleased that money would no longer be a problem. And among the rich man's books, the young man found the book that would teach him the _kenjutsu_ of the continent, _watoujutsu_, that he would spend the next decade perfecting."

He laughs again, a thought crossing into his mind that piques his humor. He eyes the Battousai, standing shocked in front of him with the faintest traces of anger and horror in his expression.

_Let's see what you make of this, bastard._

And he proceeds to happily inform the Battousai that he butchered that whole family because he was jealous, because the Battousai had ripped his family away and Enishi had refused to see such happiness when he had lost everything. He tells the Battousai, in not so many words, that the deaths of that family are on the Battousai's head as much as they are on Enishi.

And it is obvious by his reaction that it bothers the Battousai much, much more than it will ever bother Enishi.

* * *

Kenshin was getting his ass kicked.

Midori crouched in front of the others, eyes glued to the forms of Kenshin and Yukishiro as they fought back and forth. Her hands, resting atop her thighs, bunched into the cloth of her _hakama_ in annoyance and worry. She _hated_ not being able to help. She felt worthless.

Stupid Himura and his stupid promise.

Midori had nearly bolted forwards when Kenshin was thrown into the stone wall, the instinct to protect what she cared about momentarily overriding everything else. Sanosuke had managed to grab her by the collar of her _gi_, jerking her to a halt before she had taken more than a few steps. He was standing close behind her now, his warm brown eyes constantly flickering between her and the combatants ahead of them. Midori wondered if he was as anxious to barge into the fight as she was.

"What is that fool doing, _youma_?" Saito's voice cut through the silence of the little group, accompanied by the heavy reek of cigarette smoke.

Midori said nothing; frankly she would like to know just what the hell Kenshin thought he was doing, too. He had yet to even attempt to really attack Enishi Yukishiro; he was moving much more slowly than usual, as though afraid to hurt his opponent. Did he not realize that Enishi would gladly use his unnecessary kindness to get under Kenshin's guard and kill him? Was he _trying_ to get himself killed?

Stupid jackass. If he got himself killed going easy on Enishi, Midori would resurrect him so that she could kill him herself. Very, _very_ slowly.

She watched through narrowed eyes as Kenshin struggled to extract himself from the crater his body had made in the stone wall. She could tell even from her position that Enishi would be wearing that infuriating smirk as he waited for Kenshin to free himself. One attack had done that; _one_. What would the next attack do? Take off a limb?

"…glasses you wear. Take them off."

The wind had shifted, blowing faint words back to Midori's ears. What she heard was enough to make her want to bang her head against something hard and solid. _Baka_; who gives a damn about Enishi's glasses? If he wanted to blind himself through stupidity, let him for _kami's_ sake! That would be another advantage to use against the white haired young man.

Midori was going to kill Kenshin when this was all over with.

"…think I will allow you to strike me?...injured party…jinchu is for _you_."

Enishi sounded amused that Kenshin actually though he would get a hit in. His half-laughing voice brushed against Midori's skin like worms crawling in her veins.

The wind was blowing more strongly now, kicking up dust in the ruined courtyard and carrying Saito's cigarette smoke away even as it carried the clash of steal closer. And under that clash of weapons was another sound, softer, quieter. Midori strained her hearing, trying to make out the words now being spoken.

"A long long time ago in a land far away…"

Enishi was crooning at Kenshin, like a lover speaking gently to his beloved even as he tried to hack Kenshin to pieces. Midori listened in silence to Enishi's tale of his early days in the demon city of Shanghai, of his brush with death and subsequent rescue. Behind her, she faintly registered Megumi speaking.

"So that explains it all. There is no way any child could survive alone in Shanghai."

Midori was inclined to agree.

Face void of all expression, Midori listened as Enishi told of slaughtering his adoptive family once he had regained his strength. His voice was disturbingly familiar to her, mostly from the tone he used. The young man sounded just like the late Makoto Shishio when talking about this innocent family he had slaughtered for no apparent reason; there was the same hint of barely restrained bloodlust in his words as Midori had once heard every night in the voice of her former partner.

"So why, you may ask, did the young man murder the entire family? After all, he could have simply stolen what he wanted and left the family alive. Why do you think he had to butcher them all, Battousai?" Enishi was definitely grinning now, probably gloating over the horrified and guilt-ridden look currently featuring on Kenshin's face.

"…stop it…"

Midori lurched to a standing position at the weak plea; Sanosuke was forced to grab the back of her _gi_ once more as she took an automatic step forward. She had rarely ever heard Kenshin sound so defeated; the experience infuriated her. She wanted Yukishiro's blood on her blade; she wanted to make him _hurt_. _Now_.

"Option one: because the family resisted." Enishi was speaking again, his profile turned to Midori so that she could see the fierce smile that raised his lips and lit up his handsome face.

"Option two: because the young man was just a homicidal maniac."

Midori was going to have to go with option two on that one.

"Or perhaps it was option three: the young man, after having his _onee_-_sama_ ripped away from him so cruelly, couldn't bear to see such happiness as was evident in that other family."

"Shut up!" Kenshin was shouting now, his voice ringing through the night air to make itself easily heard. "Shut up now, Enishi!"

"Does that mean you've already figured it out, Battousai?" Enishi taunted, shifting slightly as though to prepare for an attack. "If not, then the correct answer would be option three."

Kenshin howled. In an instant he was in the air, spinning head over heels and falling fast towards the smirking Enishi. Something had snapped, and now he was angry.

Enishi looked as though he couldn't be more pleased.

With a quick move that was painfully simple, Enishi blocked Kenshin's attack and proceeded to stab his _tachi_ through Kenshin's arm. Midori watched it all, feeling as though everything was happening in slow motion. Vaguely she registered the sound of tearing fabric and realized that she had pulled away from Sanosuke, taking long strides in Kenshin's direction without conscious thought. With a supreme force of will, Midori stopped where she was, merely watching mutely as Enishi jerked his blade free and Kenshin stumbled back two steps.

As though viewing herself from outside of her body, Midori watched her arm disappear as she reached up and pulled her _katana_ out of its sheath, strapped in its customary position across her back. She watched as Enishi froze, his head turning almost mechanically to stare at her as she glared back; she said nothing, using every ounce of her self control not to interfere and gut him right there. She had promised Kenshin; she had promised to let him do whatever he pleased unless he was on the verge of dying.

Damn stupid Himura and that stupid promise.

The look Enishi was giving her was one that she found completely out of place for the current settings and situation. If she were in his position, she would be giving him such a look as to cause him to spontaneously combust on the spot. She would _not_ be gazing at him with fucking _compassion_ or _pity_ in her eyes. She would _not_ have mouthed the word 'soon' to him before turning back to her bleeding opponent. His actions froze her in place, her mind working overtime to figure out just what the hell that little interaction was meant to signify.

"Kabu."

Kenshin's voice pulled her from such ponderings, drawing her gaze to meet his fierce – if worried – look.

"Kabu, please do not get involved."

She gave him a bored look, purposely masking her worry and confusion and the ever-present pain behind her façade. "I am not involved. Remember what I said, Himura; stop pussy-footing around or I _will_ butt in."

He nodded once; Midori took one step back to show that she would not interfere. She kept her _katana_ out, held loosely at her side. Kenshin focused once more on Enishi, who had watched the proceedings with a smirk plastered on his face.

"Are we done chatting and stretching now?" he taunted, twirling his deadly blade around with simply movements of his fingers and wrists. "Is it finally time for the real battle?"

"Hey."

The word was barked lowly from behind her as the two men before her squared off; Midori tilted her head to the side ever-so-slightly to let the police officer know that she was listening.

"What was that, _youma_? What did Yukishiro say to you?" Midori could practically feel Saito boring a hole in the back of her head with his glare; a brief smirk flittered across her face and was gone in an instant.

"He mouthed the word 'soon'."

"…In that case, I suggest that you leave. Now."

Midori began to back away as Enishi and Kenshin clashed, snorting once to let the wolf shadowing her retreat know what she thought of his idea. He ignored her.

"I'd rather not have a bigger mess to contend with, _youma_. Get out of here now, before 'soon' arrives and Yukishiro turns his attention back to you."

Feeling the presence of the others at her back, Midori halted her retreat and turned so that she was standing profile to the little group, glancing at Saito from the corner of one eye. "You want me to flee?"

"Obviously."

Midori refused to bristle from his condescending tone; she was too tired, too sore, and too preoccupied to let his rudeness piss her off right now. "Not a chance in Hell, Saito."

"I'm not going to help you if he decides to come over here, _youma_. Leave or face the consequences of your stupidity on your own."

"Icicles will form on the surface of the sun before I even consider asking for your help, wolf. I'm not going anywhere."

She did not add that she couldn't leave even if she were cowardly enough to want an escape. If she left, and Kenshin was defeated, Sanosuke would be the only person that would for sure try to protect Megumi, Kaoru, and Yahiko. Yahiko was in no condition to protect himself, Megumi was not a fighter, and Kaoru…

She would probably through such a fit over Kenshin's defeat that she would be helpless to defend anything. Stupid girl.

None of the others tried to persuade her to leave, and Saito let the subject drop with a huff of smoke.

"GOOD LUCK, KENSHIN!"

The shout from so close behind her startled Midori, who glared momentarily at Kaoru for the noise before turning to put them all at her back once more. Enishi would not get through her while breath remained in her body. She'd kill him if she had to.

And she was fast coming to the conclusion that she would indeed have to. Kenshin had yet to land a single hit on Enishi, all of his moves blocked with frightening ease. She was getting seriously fed up with that annoying little smirk the white-haired man still worn; she itched to wipe the self-satisfied look off of his face. Godsdamnit, why was Kenshin still holding back?

Enishi had apparently picked up on Kenshin's restraint, as well; he began taunting him again, seemingly determined to anger Kenshin however he could.

"Are you becoming rusty in your old age, Battousai?" he jeered, not letting up his onslaught in the slightest. "At this rate, I can kill you without even breaking a sweat! That just won't do at all; I want to defeat you at the pinnacle of your strength and skill!"

He slid back, positioning his blade in a way Midori was unfamiliar with; clearly this was another _watoujustu_ technique.

"If you refuse to show me a move or two of your precious _Hiten Mitsirugi_-_ryu_, I supposed I'll simply have to force it out of you!"

And he shot forwards, blade over his head in a position to swing down and cut Kenshin in half from head to groin. At the last second, Kenshin dodged – leaping into the air and getting his body into position for his more favored attack – the _Hiten Mitsirugi_-_ryu Ryu Tsiu Sen_. Enishi, incredibly, merely smirked in triumph.

"Oh, yes, I've wanted to break this attack to pieces for some time now." As though announcing his intent to take a nap; the man was crazy.

But crazier still was the fact that he did break the power of the attack. In fluid, precise movements, Enishi jabbed the blade of his tachi into the ground, put his foot onto the hilt to launch himself skywards, and pulled the _tachi_ out of the ground as he shot upwards, using a seemingly useless length of tassel on the end of the hilt to pull it up after him.

Even from where she stood, Midori could practically hear the bones in Kenshin's ribs break as he was struck. Blood spewed from his mouth; Kaoru and Megumi shouted his name in unison. He was thrown even further upward by the blow, seeming to impossibly fall into the night sky –

Until he suddenly flipped and came to a complete stop, his feet planted on the bottom of the basket of an empty hot air balloon.

She watched, silent and unmoving, as Kenshin's _Kuzu Ryu Sen_, the technique he had learned from his arrogant bastard of a master in preparations for fighting Shishio a year ago, connected with nine solid blows to Enishi's body. She watched as Enishi impacted with the ground, a heavy cloud of dust obscuring him from sight as Kenshin also landed rather heavily on his feet; it was clear to her that he was feeling the burn from that rib-cracking blow of Enishi's from only moments before. How many more such hits could he take? How much longer would he be able to fight?

And how in the seven circles of Hell was Enishi Yukishiro able to get up after being hit like that and still have that fucking smirk on his face?

The man was laughing as though nothing had happened.

What _was_ this man? Did he not feel pain? Did he enjoy physical injury?

Words were spoken from behind her, but they sounded distant and very soft. Her hearing was acting oddly, sharpening to the point of causing her ears to ring before fading out to near-silence. Likewise, her vision had started to fade in and out, constantly blurry around the edges. Midori subtly shifted her weight so that it was evenly distributed to both legs, lessening the chance that she would suddenly lose her balance and fall. The pain in her chest, which had been constant since she had woken up hanging off of the roof, was beginning to build to a crescendo once more. Megumi had been right; Midori was in no condition to be up walking around or experiencing large amounts of stress. Her body was trying to prepare itself for another involuntary shutdown.

Shit. As if she didn't have enough to worry about.

She forced her eyes to focus once more, in time to see Kenshin take a familiar stance that set her instantly on edge. He was going to use _that_? The ultimate weapon in his arsenal, the secession technique of his chosen style? She had only witnessed this technique a few times; once when Kenshin had used it against Shishio, and several times at a much slower pace as he walked her through it's mechanics by her request. Midori had studied and analyzed every second of this, the _Ama Kakeru Ryo no Hirameki_, the _ougi_ of _Hiten Mitsirugi_-_ryu_; she knew it from every angle, every perspective, every tiny little detail. She knew exactly what kind of devastating power could be unleashed by such an attack.

**_But_**…

There was a flaw. One single, seemingly unusable flaw to the awesome attack that Kenshin was preparing to use. And that flaw might just end up getting him killed.

And unless he had picked up on it himself, while performing the move, Kenshin would have no idea because Midori had never told him.

_No no n**o no** **NO**_**!**

Midori sprinted forward as fast as her damn wobbly legs would carry her, eyes fixed on Kenshin, who was possibly about to die because for once Midori hadn't teased him about a weakness. She was not pleased to be tackled to the ground by a heavy weight much too far away from her target, Sanosuke's voice in her ear merely background noise to the roaring in her head.

_HimuraninjinKenshin**waitnodon'tdon't**-_

She rolled under Sanosuke until she was on her back in the dirt, bunching her feet into his stomach and launching him away from her. Instantly she was back on her feet, scrambling to reach Kenshin before it was too late, trying to call out to him when her voice was apparently stuck in her throat. She had to tell him, had to warn him, had to do _something_ –

Everything seemed to go into a kind of slow point of time.

She watched, helpless to stop them, as both men launched into movement. She watched, helpless, as Enishi successfully dodged the first stage of Kenshin's attack, staying low to the ground and getting around the vacuum-like suction that had been what caught Shishio. She watched, too far away and utterly useless, as Enishi surged forwards even as Kenshin carried the succession technique to its end, striking Enishi across the chest with his _sakabatou_. She watched the two separate again, watched them stagger a few steps away from each other.

She watched, falling to the ground as blackness tinted her vision, as Kenshin's chest was laid open from left shoulder to right hip; his blood sprayed through the air like a crimson waterfall.

Midori found herself flat on her stomach, her arms reaching out in front of her even as her hands curled inward like mishapen claws. She could vaguely hear the sounds of screaming voices behind her; a small chunk of her brain informed her that the white smoke billowing around her was not from dust or from a fire, and should therefore not be present. She tried to call out to Kenshin, tried to tell him to get up off his ass and help her up so that they could help the others; but all that came out when she tried to speak was a wet, gurgling gagging noise as she choked on the warm blood rising in her throat. Her jaws locked themselves together with an audible click, leaving the welling tide of blood to force itself between her teeth.

She needed to move. She must get up and reach Kenshin. Saito was a prick, Sanosuke and Yahiko were both wounded, Megumi and Kaoru would both be worthless in a fight. Midori and Kenshin were the only ones who could protect the others now; she had to get up and get him moving.

But all she could do was lay there as her body convulsed, the seizure throwing her around the ground as the pain exploded into her nerves. Were it not for the locked jaw, Midori would have howled at the agony.

Kenshin was right there, just laying there in a growing pool of his own blood as the fog-like smoke covered him. She _must_ get to Kenshin. She _must_.

A booted foot, barely discernable through the white smoke all around her, planted itself directly to the left of her head.

Midori was helpless to stop Enishi Yukishiro as he crouched beside her and ran a hand through her hair in a disturbingly gentle manner. She was powerless to resist him as he turned her gently to her side, one of his hands covering her mouth and nose as the other firmly kept her head from moving. Something wet touched her nose, something that burned when she tried to breathe and brought the blackness rushing up to greet her. Panic-stricken emerald orbs met black for a frantic glance before heavy lids began to slide shut against their will.

One last jerk of the pain-stiffened body; one last flash of defiant green before they were hidden from view, safe in the darkness of sleep.

* * *

Enishi removes the woman's _katana_ from her hand, takes the sheath from her back. He contemplates getting rid of the objects, as the woman will not need them where he is taking her; prudence stilled his urge to destroy a potential weapon. The woman will probably want the _katana_ back at some point. He will hold on to it for the time being.

That decided, Enishi replaces the _katana_ in its sheath and straps it across his own back. He picks up his temporarily discarded _tachi_ before bending to gently pick up the woman, careful of her left side as he cradles her in his arms. Gein had done some serious damage to the left side, and he did not wish to jostle any broken ribs. The chloroform would keep her asleep for many hours, but the thought of harming this woman puts a bad taste in Enishi's mouth. Aside from which, _onee_-_sama_ won't smile for him if the woman is hurt, Enishi is sure of that.

He casts a final look over his shoulder through the fog pouring from Gein's decimated Iwanbou. The Battousai lies immoble, his scarlet blood pooling around him in a manner that greatly pleases Enishi. How does _he_ like it? How does _he_ enjoy feeling the same wound that he had inflicted upon _onee_-_sama_ when he killed her? Oh, it won't kill him, no; death would be to kind for that monster. Enishi doesn't want him dead yet. The Battousai has to _suffer_ more first. He has to _suffer_ like Enishi suffered, having lost something most precious to him. He has to _suffer_ like the woman in Enishi's arms is suffering, feeling the pain that she feels because the Battousai brainwashed her into throwing her life away for him.

Let him live. Death is too kind for him.

Without the slightest hesitation Enishi walks right past the Battousai's still form, not sparing a second glance at the other inhabitants of this dojo or the police officer. None of them matter anymore. Gein will do his final part, leaving behind his little creation as a gift and pushing Enishi's Jinchu even further in the process. And then the real fun will begin, watching the Battousai slowly waste away as the grief and the guilt eat him alive.

He holds the woman closer as he steps out of the dojo gates, stealing silently into the blackness of the Tokyo night.

It's time to take her home.

* * *

A/N: Please review and tell me what you think.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

_Sanosuke cannot help but grin devilishly at Midori, who is giving him a look of pure confusion as Tae and Tsubame unload what he is proud to inform her are one hundred and fifty full jugs of sake around their table in a quiet corner of the Akabeko._

"_You ready for this, aibou?" he crows, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. She in turn raises an eyebrow at him, still eyeing all of the liquor in confusion._

"_What is 'this', exactly?"_

_He supposes that he can understand her confused state. Midori has only been back from Kyoto for two weeks; she has not left the dojo in that time; and she has had a constant second shadow in the form of a certain redhead they both know and love. Sanosuke has taken it upon himself to save her before she goes mad. He had shown up at the dojo around dusk, looped an arm around Midori's waist – nearly loosing the arm in the process; apparently he had startled her and the katana had come out before he had shouted at her – and proceeded to drag her after him as he exited the dojo. He has told Kenshin that he is going to show Midori a good time, get her shit-faced drunk, and that Kenshin is not invited to join them._

_He doesn't mention to Kenshin – and will not mention to Midori – that this is his own way of celebrating her return. He doesn't want to talk about how this is his way of giving thanks that she is alive when he couldn't save her, that he owes her life to a certain wolf bastard that's going to get the shit beat out of him for making Sanosuke worry about her, or that this is his way of apologizing to Midori for failing to save her in the first place. All he says is that he's going to take her to drown her in alcohol for a night._

_Sanosuke's grin gets even more devilish as he recalls the look on Kenshin's face as his precious kabu was steered away from him. The guy had looked like someone had just informed him that he must shave his head and enter a monestary. Priceless._

"_This," he replies in answer to his drinking buddy's question, "is us getting absolutely shit-faced drunk, aibou. We're going to get sloshed."_

_Midori is staring at him as though he has grown a few extra heads, so he gestures to the liquor spread out before them and explains a little more._

"_No friend of mine can go too long without getting plastered with me. I got Kenshin drunk once – funniest thing I've ever seen, that guy's hilarious when he loosens up. Jou-chan gets even louder and more obnoxious than usual – yes I'm serious, don't give me that look. She gets all clingy and violent if she doesn't think your paying attention to her. Yahiko's a lightweighted little pansy – he'll pass out on ya after a drink or two tops. And the foxlady –"_

_Here he pauses, a visible shudder wracking his body as he recalls exactly what happens when Megumi drinks. That is not a mental image he needs right now._

"_She gets scary," he finishes shortly, making a face at Midori – who is obviously trying vailiently not to laugh at him. "Anyway, you're the only one of our little group that I haven't gotten smashed with yet, and tonight we're gonna change that. Get ready, aibou; there's a hundred and fifty jugs of sake to drink, it's on the house courtesy of Tae-san, and we're not leaving 'till it's all gone!"_

_Sanosuke is pumped. Sanosuke is going to drink Midori's pants off – figuratively, of course, since he doesn't want Kenshin to kill him and that would sort of be like sleeping with his sister, which is gross._

_Midori is currently giving Sanosuke a look that makes him feel really stupid, regarding him from under her long eyelashes with a little smirk on her face. "You think that you can out-drink me, Sagara?"_

_Sanosuke grins at the blanant challenge in her tone. He grabs up a jug, uncorks it with his teeth, and watches as she picks up and uncorks a jug of her own before issueing a challenge of his own._

"_I don't think so, I know so. Prepare to be drunk under this table."_

_Midori lets out a bark of laughter, lifting her jug towards Sanosuke as though toasting him. "Bottom's up, Sano."_

_He grins one more time at her use of his shortened name before lifting his jug to his lips and chugging for all he's worth. He slams the empty jug back down with a gusty sigh, delighted to see that Midori is still drinking. This is going to be awesome; she can't drink as fast as Sanosuke, so that should mean she can't hold as much liquor either. He is going to get her so drunk she's not going to remember her own name._

_"Sorry, aibou," he taunts as she lowers her jug and places it – empty – back on the table. "I didn't realize you were so slow. I'll try to slow down so you won't feel so inferior to the drinking master of Tokyo, Sanosuke Sagara!"_

_He punches a fist into the air, stocked that this is really happening. This is going to be so much fun!_

_"I'm sorry, perhaps I missed something. You have drank seven jugs already, Sanosuke?"_

_He pauses at her question, brown eyes sweeping the table between them; he has to count the jugs for a second to understand what she is saying. There is one empty jug directly in front of him. There are six empty jugs in front of Midori, including the one she just finished._

_She's laughing again, the witch. Sanosuke is sure he has a completely dumbfounded look on his face. How in the hell did she do that?_

_"You didn't think that fighting and killing were my only talents, did you?" She's the one taunting him now, wagging a finger beneath his nose in a mock-scolding manner. "I can do many things that you are not aware of, Sanosuke. Aside from which, it will be a very cold day in Hell before a rooster can out-drink a panther."_

_Oh, that does it; she's going down!_

_Sanosuke grabs up three jugs of sake at once and drains them all as fast as he can._

_Midori waits until he has emptied his sixth jug before drinking anymore, but when she does start up again it's scary. She seems to pick up a jug only to put it down empty half a second later. How is she doing that! She will not tell him when he demands an explanation; she just laughs in his face and asks if she should slow down so that he might catch up._

_Sanosuke Sagara, the drinking master of Tokyo, is getting his ass kicked by a woman. If any of his buddies find out about this they will never let him live it down._

_"Yer ch-ch-cheatin'," he slurs out at one point, jabbing an accusing finger at her that almost takes her eye out. "Yer dump…dump…pourin' out tha liquor, ya cheatin' pantharlady!"_

_Midori merely grins cheekily at him before downing her thirty-fifth bottle of sake almost as easily as she downed her first._

_When all of the jugs are at last empty – sixty-one for Sanosuke and a whopping eighty-nine for Midori – they are both doused to the gills, drunk enough to stagger against each other as Midori – who is still more sober than Sanosuke – half-drags, half-leads him down the deserted city streets towards the dojo. Sanosuke comforts himself with the knowledge that he has succeeded in getting the notorious Zetsumei Kurohyou drunk enough for her to stumble every ten or so steps. He is so pleased that he can't help but break into a loud chorus of a particularly bawdy song he and his buddies sing after a good night of drinking and gambling._

_Midori is easily the most badass drinker he's ever met in his life, something he promptly tells her in loud tones._

_"Ya gotta come 'n drink…drink wif ma buddies…show 'em how fast…drink 'em ta China!"_

_"Are all of your friends as uncouthly loud and boisterous as you when intoxicated?"_

_How the hell can she still use such big words after drinking that much? _

_Sanosuke finds himself sprawled out on top of Midori, who has tripped over her feet (and Sanosuke's) to face-plant in the dojo's courtyard. She is laughing; laughing underneath him as they struggle to extract themselves from their two-person dog-pile; laughing and tapping him in the ribs with her foot as she slides out from under him; gasping and clutching her chest as she curls into a tight ball; gasping and clutching her chest as Sanosuke realizes that something is very, very wrong._

_He scrambles over to her and crushes her back to his chest as she convulses once, twice, her hands curling into claws as her feet beat against the ground. The sounds she is muffling are enough to partially sober him in a hurry, the world still spinning weirdly as he frantically searched the dojo's porch for Kenshin's ever-present silhouette. Figures the one time he **needs** to be lurking he's nowhere to be found._

_One of Midori's claws bats at Sanosuke's restraining arms. Sanosuke looks back at her to find that she is staring directly at him, sweat pouring from her skin as she bores into Sanosuke with her green green eyes. Her look plainly tells him that he is to sit there and shut up and hold onto her until her fit passes, and Sanosuke doesn't want to think about what she will do if he tries to call from Kenshin. So he keeps his mouth shut and his arms tightly around her, hoping and praying that her fit ends soon._

_When Midori suddenly goes quiet and limp against him, Sanosuke experiences one of the most horrifying moments of his life when he thinks that she has died on him. It is therefore a huge relief when he feels her take a deep breath, when he hears the quiet snorts of muffled laughter as she buries her sweaty face into the side of his arm. He is so relieved that she is alright that he can't help laughing with her._

_"We should do this more often," she tells him, patting his arm to indicate that he should let her go. "We will take Kenshin with us. I haven't seen him drunk in a long, long time."_

_And Sanosuke knows that she is telling him not to speak of her fit, telling him without words that she doesn't want to talk about it. That's just fine by Sanosuke; he's just had the everliving shit scared out of his drunken ass and he really doesn't want to talk about it either. So he nods and laughs and helps her to stand, saying that yes, they should definitely do this more often and thinking that no, he never wants to see his friend have a fit like that again._

_…But it's going to be **awesome** to see what Midori does with a shit-faced-drunk Kenshin at her mercy__._

* * *

For the first time in a very long time, Sanosuke Sagara wanted to commit murder.

He wanted to kill that white-haired bastard. He wanted to stuff his hand down the bastard's throat and rip his heart out through his mouth. He wanted to beat the bastard to death with his bare hands.

The white-haired bastard had murdered Sanosuke's _aibou_, after all; anybody that had a problem with Sanosuke killing him in return to go hang themselves for all he cared.

They couldn't even have a proper funeral for her because she had technically been dead for the last decade or so. They'd had to bury her in the woods outside of town, her grave marked by a couple of sticks made into the cross-thing Christians used to mark the graves of the dead. Midori had told him once that she didn't believe in a god, or a heaven for people like her. She had said that she didn't think Hell would be all that bad, either, with the kind of life she'd lived. She wouldn't have given a shit _what_ they marked her grave with.

Sanosuke wanted to mark it with that white-haired bastard's head on a pike.

And then, if he could stand to be around the son-of-a-bitch long enough to get it, he wanted to bury Kenshin Himura's heart at the base of the pike. The jackass was already acting like he was dead; Sanosuke didn't see why it would hurt to finish the job. Not like Kenshin would stop him, the selfish jackass.

Sanosuke thought that he was a pretty forgiving guy. He could have forgiven Kenshin for getting them all into this jinchu mess to begin with – it wasn't his fault the white-haired bastard was fucking crazy. He could have forgiven Kenshin for not beating the white-haired bastard and therefore giving the white-haired bastard the chance to kill Midori and leave her body pinned to the wall of the dojo – not like Sanosuke could have killed the guy either.

But there was no fucking way in the seven circles of Hell that Sanosuke Sagara would ever forgive Kenshin Himura for leaving before he had helped them bury Midori's body. He didn't deserve to be forgiven. He wanted to run off right after his best friend and lover and closest companion was butchered and sulk in the Rakuninmura.

Well then fuck him.

Sanosuke was done. He was leaving this fucked-up city. He was through with Kenshin's bullshit. He had already packed his meager belongings, had already said a gruff goodbye to Yahiko and Jou-chan and the foxlady.

And now he was standing over the slumped form of Kenshin, here in this pathetic little dump full of has-beens and losers.

"You disgust me," he told the shell of his former friend, his empty right hand clenching into a tight fist as the cord of his satchel cut into his also-fisted left hand. "You didn't even wait to bury her. You said that you loved her and you didn't even help us clean her up. She would beat the shit out of you right now. She'd hate you for how fucking stupid you're acting."

The lump on the ground said nothing, didn't move, didn't give any sign that it had heard a word Sanosuke had just said.

Fuck goodbyes, then. Sanosuke turned and walked away without a backward glance, not acknowledging the tears in his eyes, not acknowledging the tightness in his chest. He didn't acknowledge any of the lowlifes he passed as he walked out of that hellhole or any of the people he passed as he walked right out of Tokyo.

He just kept walking.

* * *

_It is a beautiful day. The sun is shining, a cool breeze is blowing gently through the trees, the birds are singing happily…_

_And Yahiko Myojin is bored out of his mind._

_He sits slumped over his knees on the edge of the porch, scowling at his feet as he digs a hole with his toe. There is nothing to do! He has finished the training buso left for him before going to teach at a dojo across town, he has finished all of the chores for today – even the laundry since Kenshin's not around today – and he has even taken a nap to try to pass the time. Nothing is alleviating his boredom. Yahiko wants some action, damnit. He wants something to **do**._

_A shadow falls over his as someone comes to stand between him and the hot noonday sun. Yahiko looks up, trying to squint against the light to see who it is. An object is tossed to him suddenly, causing him to fumble to catch the bokken before it hits the ground._

_"I am bored. Come."_

_Yahiko stares, dumbfounded, after Midori as she marches away towards the training dojo. Is she serious? She wants to spar with him? She, Zetsumei Kurohyou, wants to spar with him, Yahiko Myojin?_

_"If you do not wish to spar with me, Yahiko-chan, that is fine. I will hunt down Sanosuke for a good fight instead. I apologize for bothering you._

_Oh, crap._

_Yahiko literally falls off of the porch in his haste to get up. He is on his feet and tearing across the courtyard in a second, skidding to a halt an inch from Midori where she stands in the doorway of the training dojo, a small smirk tilting her lips up. He scowls, carefully shoving past her into the dojo and turning to face her with his bokken up and ready._

_She, on the other hand, is relaxed as can be, leaning against the wall by the doorway and twirling her own bokken between her fingers. Her katana is nowhere to be seen. __She pushes away from the wall, dropping her bokken and beginning the series of stretches she always does before practicing her own style of swordsmenship. Midway through a stretch – in which she holds her body upside down off the floor with one arm and does push-ups – she pauses to glance over at him._

_"Should you not also be stretching, Yahiko-chan?"_

_He scowls at her, hating that stupid suffix. "I trained earlier. That's enough stretching for me. And don't call me 'chan'!"_

_"Very well."_

_Stretches apparently finished, she picks up her bokken again and comes to stand before him, eyeing his form and getting a pensive look on her face. Yahiko recognizes that look; it's the one she gets every time she wants to explain something to him but isn't sure how to put her thoughts into words that Yahiko will understand._

_He really hated that look; it made him feel like a little kid._

_"Before we begin, I would like to explain what I hope to accomplish during our spar."_

_Yahiko groans loudly, stamping his foot in annoyance. "Come on! I thought you said you wanted to fight, not sit here and talk all day!"_

_Midori says nothing for a moment; she merely gives him The Look._

_He has seen this look on her face before, too. She has used it against him a few times after he has smarted off to her. She has used it a couple of times against Sanosuke, and a lot of times against buso. It's just a simply look, but the message behind it is always enough to shut them all up in a hurry._

_'Watch it.' That's all The Look means: 'watch it'._

_Sometimes Yahiko forgets exactly who and what has come to live with them._

_He really needs to stop forgetting._

_When Midori sees that she has gotten her point across, The Look morphs back into that contemplative expression as she tries to put her thoughts into words. Yahiko says nothing, merely waits quietly for her to speak._

_"I have watched you train, and I have watched Kaoru-dono train, and I have watched the two of you spar against each other in an attempt to gain an understanding of your chosen technique, the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu. I want to understand the mechanics and the forms that are used in the movements of the technique. It is vitally important when facing an enemy to have at least a basic grasp of the style they use, whether it is Kenshin's Hiten Mistirugi, your Kamiya Kasshin, or my own __Tenrai dageki taishite ikazuchi-kurohyou. Understanding your opponent's technique even a little can give you the necessary edge to win."_

_Her brow furrows and she focuses slightly confused eyes on Yahiko, clearly baffled. "I have tried to get Kaoru-dono to spar with me so that I can better analyze the attack and defense of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, but she has continued to decline. I get the feeling that she is afraid of me, but I am not sure why she would be."_

_Yahiko has to suppress a snort of laughter at that. He knows exactly why Kaoru is afraid of sparring with Midori. They all saw her fight against that Saito-bastard; they all saw her take a katana through the shoulder and then get up like it was nothing. They have all seen her spar with Kenshin, seen the look upon her face as she fights – the cold calculating look that plainly says that she will kill anything or anyone that gets between her and victory._

_Yeah, he knows why buso is so scared: buso's a freakin' whiny little chicken. Yahiko isn't scared! Yahiko will fight anybody, anytime, anywhere._

_And he might even beat them, too._

_"What I would like for you to do, Yahiko –" – and he knows that she is leaving off that stupid suffix on purpose – "– is attack me using any move of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu that you would like. I will only be dogding for now. After a while I will begin to counter your attacks so that you can show me the defense of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu. I will, of course, by holding back."_

_Yahiko opens his mouth, about to tell her just what he thinks of that idea. He doesn't need her to hold back! He's not a little kid!_

_"Were I to not hold back and actually used the full force of my strength when attacking you, there are two scenarios that might occur. The first would be that I would break several of your bones, injuring you severely and having both Kenshin and Megumi-san throw fits at me for the next year or two. The second scenario – the worst case scenario – would involve me hitting you much too hard somewhere vital, killing you by accident even if I am using this chunk of wood."_

_Yahiko pales and promptly shuts his mouth, reminded once again as to who and what she really is._

_Damn, he **really** needs to stop forgetting that._

_"You may begin."_

_And he does. He throws himself into every attack, trying so damn hard to hit her. He wants to land a hit. Just one hit. But every time he thinks he has her, she will suddenly move to the side, or back, or go over his head as if he were an ant in her path that she is stepping over. Not once does his bokken connect._

_Sadly, the same cannot be said for her attacks when she finally begins to put him on the defensive. What is worse, Midori is kind enough to tell him exactly where she intends to strike, giving him ample time in which to dodge her attacks. It doesn't help._

_"Right arm."_

_**Whack**._

_"Across the stomach."_

_**Whack**._

_"Left kidney."_

_**Whack**._

_She never hits too hard. She strikes him just firmly enough to sting before moving on, always careful not to put too much force behind her attacks. Yahiko would be insulted, but considering the ease with which she is kicking his ass he decides to be thankful._

_Finally he can go no longer. He collapses to lie on his back, panting heavily as Midori picks up his discarded bokken and goes to put it up along with her own. She soon comes back and sits down at his side, waiting calmly for him to regain control of his breathing. **She** isn't even breathing hard._

_When he at last regains some semblance of control and no longer sounds like he just ran a marathon, Midori asks him if he would be willing to spar with her once or twice a week. She assures him that if he is not up to it, she will simply continue sparring with Kenshin or picking fistfights with Sanosuke. She does not want him to strain himself._

_He puffs up with all of his samurai pride and tells her he'll spar with her anytime she wants._

_And one of these days, he's going to beat her, too._

* * *

Yahiko sat hunched over his knees on the edge of the porch, manfully trying to hold back the childish tears that stung the backs of his eyes. He was not going to cry. Men didn't cry. Kenshin was rotting away in that Rukuninmura craphole, Sanosuke had left to go kami-knew-where, and Midori was dead thanks to that bastard Enishi – but he still wasn't going to cry. Crying was for girls and wimps. Kaoru and Tsubame had cried enough for all of them.

Yahiko just wanted to wake up from the nightmare that his life had become.

His family – his surrogate family that he cared so much about – was falling apart at the seams. He wanted somebody to tell him that it was all a joke, that the thing that they had buried in the circular box in the woods wasn't really Midori's dead body, that Kenshin wasn't really wasting away with his guilt again, that Sanosuke wasn't really gone for good because of Kenshin's behavior.

Surely it was just some sick joke. Surely if he just went to sleep he'd wake up and all of this would have been just a horrible nightmare.

It was just a horrible nightmare.

Right?

_

* * *

_

_"Come on, Midori-san, please? Please wear this kimono?"_

_Kaoru is starting to get seriously desperate. Midori is just sitting there with a glare on her face, acting like Kaoru is asking her to shave her head or something. It is just a kimono! Why won't the stubborn woman put it on?_

_It had been Kaoru's idea to go out to eat tonight. Kaoru is the one who wants to get dressed up and feel pretty and spend some time with her boys and Midori somewhere other than the dojo. She wants everyone to have a great time tonight._

_And she really, really wants Midori to wear this pretty kimono that Kaoru never wears because it's black and black just doesn't work with Kaoru._

_"I do not wear kimonos." Midori has already said this a half-dozen times and Kaoru is getting really sick of hearing it._

_"What do you mean 'you don't wear kimonos'? Every woman wears kimonos on special occasions! This is a special night, Midori-san, I want everyone to have a good time and look their best, and that means you have to put on this kimono!"_

_"No."_

_"Please!"_

_"No."_

_"Why not?" Kaoru wails, stamping her foot in irritation._

_Midori doesn't answer and irritation turns to anger in a flash._

_"Fine!" she yells, throwing the kimono at Midori and stomping towards the door in fury. "Wear your stupid hakama and your boring old gi! When everybody else is all dressed up and you're wearing your same old boring clothes, don't blame me when you feel left out!"_

_And she storms out of the room._

_She is thrilled when Midori joins her and her boys an hour later as they leave the dojo, decked out in the kimono and positively glowing with beauty. She gushes all the way to the Akabeko about how nice Midori looks in her borrowed clothes, pestering Yahiko and Sanosuke until they compliment Midori, too. She can't understand why Midori was so resistant to dressing up when she looks so beautiful._

_But when they are seated in the Akabeko around their beef hotpot, when Tae is trying to hand Midori a jug of sake over said hotpot and Midori has to stretch to reach it, causing her sleeves to fall past her elbows the way her modified gi sleeves never do…_

_When Kaoru sees the scars that mar Midori's skin all the way past where her sleeve is bunched over her elbows, and sees the horrified, embarrassed, self-loathing look on Midori's face…_

_She understands exactly why Midori never wears kimonos, and she vows to never make her wear one again._

* * *

Kaoru curled tighter around herself in her futon and her blankets, trying to muffle the sounds of her tears and failing miserably.

She couldn't believe it. She just couldn't.

Oh, Midori-san…

She hadn't slept well since Midori died. She didn't want to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Midori's body again, pinned to the wall of the dojo with those vibrant green eyes dull and lifeless. She saw the devastation that had eaten its way across Kenshin's face, she heard the heart-broken howl of agony that he had made, and she remembered what he had looked like after Midori's body had been buried, when they found him at Rukuninmura.

Oh, gods, how could this have happened? How could Midori be dead?

* * *

_"Kabu, we need a way to identify each other. That's the third time this month you've tried to kill me; I'm on my fifth attempt. What should we do?"_

_"How are you with riddles, Himura?"_

_"Passable."_

_"Alright. If someone comes up behind you in the dark, and you want to know if it's me, there is a simple riddle that you can ask."_

_"What is the riddle?"_

_" 'I am the part of the bird that is not in the sky. I can swim in the ocean, and yet remain dry. What am I?"_

_"What is the answer."_

_"The answer is a shadow, Himura. And it is fitting for us to use, since we are both killers in the shadows."_

_…_

_"Why are you so fascinated with the stars, kabu?"_

_"Because they always come back; every night, they come back without requiring a bribe. They're reliable."_

_"But in the morning they are stolen from you."_

_"Not stolen, ninjin. Just temporarily lost. You have to go through the day to make it to the night and find them again, but you know that they will be there. Sometimes that's the only thing that makes the days bearable: the promise of the night, and of the stars."_

_…_

_Her face, covered in blood, as she tells him that she has spent the past two weeks being raped by her own allies._

_…_

_The warmth of her body as they lean against each other, drinking sake to keep from crumbling under the weight of all the death piled on their souls._

_…_

_Her hands running gently through his hair as he weeps for the death of his wife._

_…_

_The look on her face when he puts his blade through her chest._

_…_

_The look on her face when Sano brings her to the dojo for the first time._

_…_

_The feel of her in his arms as he kisses her, after she is wounded by Saito._

_…_

_The feel of her in his arms, in the hotsprings where they first make love._

_…_

_Her face when she returns from Kyoto and finds him at the river._

_…_

_His kabu with Sano, with Kaoru-dono, with Yahiko-chan or Megumi-san or Tsubame-chan._

_…_

_His kabu…_

* * *

She was dead. His kabu was dead.

She was dead.

His kabu.

Dead.

* * *

A/N: I know this is kind of weird, but I still want reviews to let me know what you think. Thanks in advance.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

_Midori eyes Kenshin warily, not liking the conversation he is trying to start._

_"I do not want to talk about it," she repeats, hands clenching into fists in her lap as she tries to control her temper. It isn't working._

_Kenshin pulls out his ultimate weapon early tonight; his eyes turn the lightest possible shade of lavender and twinkle in the night time light as though he is about to cry. She hates it when he gives her that look._

_Jackass._

_"I don't want to talk about it," she snaps, standing from her spot on the porch and making to stomp away. Kenshin, however, is too fast; he grabs her wrist and refuses to let go._

_"Kabu," he whispers, voice infinitely soft to contrast the iron grip he has on her wrist. "Please?"_

_"Why?" she asks, and she hates herself and Kenshin both for the whine in her voice. "Why are you asking this of me? What good is it going to do for anyone to dredge up painful memories?"_

_"Please," he repeats, using his hold on her to gently pull her closer to him. "I need to know. I want you to tell me. Please, kabu?"_

_Midori refuses to look at him, staring fixedly at the ground. She does not want to talk about this subject. She does not want to dredge up those memories._

_"Don't make me do this," she whispers, almost mouthing the words with the volume she is using._

_But Kenshin will not be dissuaded. "Please."_

_And so Midori tells him what he wants to know._

_She goes back to those first few weeks after his betrayal of her, after he stabbed her and left her for dead. She tells him about waking up in Makoto Shishio's arms, about the horror and pain that had strangled her when Shishio had so gleefully told her why Kenshin had tried to kill her. She tells him – in sparse details – about the sexual encounter she had indulged in that night, in an attempt to detach herself from the horrible ache of his betrayal._

_She tells him about killing the man who ordered Kenshin to kill her, and doesn't try to mask her savage pleasure at having killed the son of a bitch. Kenshin can take that as he will; she doesn't care._

_She tells him of the next ten years of her existence, moving from place to place with no purpose or goal. She tells him of taking contracts from yakuza to make money. She tells him of all the hundreds of people she killed for nothing more than her next payday. She tells him of the lingering ache in her shoulder when it rained, of the horrendous nightmares that had plagued her sleep. _

_"I hated you," she whispers, her eyes on his hand as it crushes her own. "I hated you more than I've hated anyone else in my life, more than the man who killed my Myoushu, more than the men who raped me during the war. More than the bastard who gave the order for my death. I hated you so much."_

_She can't bring herself to look at his face._

_"I thought about finding you, during the last days of the war. I thought about tracking you down and driving my katana straight through your heart. I thought about decapitating you and bathing my face in your blood. I spent night after night listing all the horrible tortures I wanted to put you through for betraying me. I thought up hundreds of different ways I could cause you pain before killing you._

_"I put your face over the face of every man I killed for about six years after your betrayal. Aside from the money, the contracts I took from yakuza were the only way I had of striking out at you the way I wanted to."_

_She hates herself for the way his hand tightens convulsively around her own._

_"Kabu…I'm sorry…I'm so sorry, kabu, please…"_

_And Kenshin leans his face against Midori's abdomen where she stands before him, wraps his free arm around her body, and weeps._

_Neither of them speaks for the rest of the night._

_Kenshin never asks for stories of her decade alone again._

* * *

The woman should have woken up yesterday, and Enishi is worried in spite of himself.

He sits on a stool beside the woman's bed, the windows thrown open to let in the cool salty breeze off the ocean. On the floor beside him there sits a bowl of ice-cold water, into which he dips a rag. After wringing the excess water from the rag he folds it in half and places it back across Zetsumei Kurohyou's burning forehead, listening to her incoherent mutterings as he does so.

It has been three days since Jinchu began, three days since he kidnapped her and brought her away to his little island mansion. She had roused briefly the morning after her abduction, falling back to unconsciousness quickly under the second dose of chloroform. She should have come out of her drug-induced sleep last night, but all she has done is suffer noisy nightmares; have frightful seizures that turn her hands into claws and tighten her muscles to the point of straining; and develop a raging fever that Enishi is currently trying to bring down.

Such a bothersome woman.

He rises from his uncomfortable little stool and stands over the unconscious woman, staring down at her over the rim of his black glasses. She is dressed in a silk robe that he bought in preparation for this, her bloody bandages and the ruined clothing discarded. The tan of her skin has turned pale from the amount of blood she has lost, dark bags forming under her closed eyes and the weight of her body dropping dramatically after only two days. By all rights, Enishi should be able to think that she looks like shit with a clear conscience.

He should, but he can't.

The memory of how her body looked when he stripped the clothing and bandages from her presents itself in the forefront of his mind unbidden, and he turns away from her in disgust. So many scars upon this woman's flesh. So many marks that will never fade away. It sickens him that men did this to her, men who were supposed to be her allies and companions cut into her enough to leave permanent reminders. The site of her back, corded and welted with so many discolored marks had infuriated him; it still infuriates him.

And the fact that he actually gives a damn at all about this woman's past pains disturbs him immensely.

Enishi stalks from her room, going to his own and throwing open the door to his balcony. He strides immediately to his chair, plopping down without grace to rest his tired head in his hands, his elbows propped against his knees. He is tired, so tired, and his own injuries still need to be looked at. He has spent the entirety of the last three days looking after the health of the woman without once taking care of his own. He is covered in old sweat and dirt and dried blood, both his and the woman's. He longs for a bath.

Hunched over, head in his hands, Enishi allows his tired eyes to drift shut and smiles at what he sees.

"_Onee_-_sama_…"

His _onee_-_sama_ stands in the darkness behind his eyelid, alone and smiling for him for the first time in the last thirteen days. She is not frowning or crying; she is not holding the sobbing Zetsumei Kurohyou in her arms. She is alone, and she is smiling, and everything is going to be alright now, everything will be wonderful as long as _onee_-_sama_ is happy.

"What did you do to my clothes?"

The question startles him; Enishi twists in his chair so that he can see the doorway, which is currently filled with the figure of Zetsumei Kurohyou in her borrowed silk robe. The robe is white, almost the color of her fever-dried skin; Enishi makes a mental note to find her a darker shaded robe to wear, as white does not agree with her. She is leaning heavily on the doorframe, her face even paler than her robe, her green eyes glaring at him as though she would like nothing more than to inflict great damage upon his body.

The thought that she is beautiful flashes through Enishi brain as he rises from his chair.

"You shouldn't be walking around," he tells her gruffly; he doesn't want to sound like he cares, but damnit he _does_ care, and it pisses him off that this stupid woman has made him care without even trying.

The woman ignores his statement, eyes darting behind him as she takes in the view of the beach and the endless sea of blue that stretches to the horizon and beyond. He can see from where he stands that her body is trembling slightly; he fancies that if he were to cradle her against him right now her trembling would make him tremble, too. He wonders briefly if she trembles from fever-induced cold, fear, pain, or some unfortunate combination of the three.

"Where are we?" She is looking at Enishi again, gaze sweeping him from head to foot in what is clearly a search for threats and not an once-over to admire his physique. It is clear as day that she will fight him to defend herself if she feels threatened and that she will disregard her current poor state of health to do so. Enishi wonders when this depressing woman last thought about herself before others, or if her life means anything at all to her.

"We're on an island. My organization uses it as a relay station between Shanghai and Japan." He fixes her with a glare of his own, stalking towards her in an attempt to frighten her. It fails. "We're about twenty kilometers from the nearest inhabited island, the waters around the island are infested with sharks, and aside from this beach and the bay –" – he waves a hand to indicate the view – " – it's all sheer cliffs. A ferry comes in once a week to deliver supplies, but other than that no one and nothing gets on or off the island. It would be extremely stupid of you to try to escape."

She is clearly fighting gravity to remain on her feet; her hand that grips the door frame is white-knuckled from the strain. "Why am I here? Why am I not dead?"

Enishi stares at her, not answering either of her questions. The woman is much too thin. _Onee_-_sama_ has only just started to smile at him again now that he has the woman safely away from that bastard Battousai; there is no way Enishi is going to let the woman waste away and lose _onee_-_sama's_ smile.

She jerks away from him when he tries to touch her arm, stumbling over the rug in his private room as she backs as fast as she can towards the door. He is slightly impressed that she has the mental capability to know that it would be extremely unwise for her to turn her back on her enemy – with a fever like the one she has right now, most people would be near-delirious. He reaches for her again, annoyed when she throws herself away from him as though he were a leper. Stupid woman.

"You have a high fever," he tells her, fighting his annoyance and trying to keep his voice low and calm. Maybe if he can make his voice sound soothing, she will trust him more? _Onee_-_sama_ always talked in soothing tones when Enishi was ill as a child.

"You are sick." He takes a careful step forwards, freezing when she counters by taking two back. She is in the doorway of his room now; a few more backwards steps and she will be pressed against the wall in the hallway. He does not want to corner her like that; he knows that should the woman feel cornered she will turn violent, and he will have to restrain her. He would like to avoid that if possible.

"You have several broken ribs. The muscles around your knee-cap are very swollen. You should not be walking on it or moving around excessively."

"Why am I here?" The question is barely a whisper, her voice steady even as tremors continue to wrack her thin body. "What do you want from me?"

Stubborn woman.

"You are here because my _onee_-_sama_ wants you here," Enishi informs her tiredly, removing his dark glasses and rubbing one hand over his eyes. "It's not a permanent arrangement. At some point I'll be returning you to Tokyo or wherever else in Japan you want me to leave you. For now you will remain here."

Enishi is tired. Enishi is in pain from the untreated injuries he received from the Battousai. Enishi is filthy and hungry and he hates the way this woman is looking at him, like he is some sort of freak or monster that she refuses to be afraid of but still won't get too close to. He is _not_ a monster. He has _saved_ this stupid, stubborn woman from a monster; she shouldn't be afraid of Enishi, she should be _thanking_ Enishi.

The Battousai must have done one hell of a job brainwashing this woman.

A gasping noise snaps his attention back to the woman in time to see her crumple to the floor, her limbs twitching frantically as her torso convulsed. Enishi sighs, tossing his dark glasses onto his bed and striding forward to pick the woman up and cradle her in his arms, just like he did when he took her away from the Battousai, just as he has done while she was unconscious when she had one of these disturbing little fits. He feels sorry for the woman in spite of himself; it must kill her to be so vulnerable that she must be cradled in the arms of her enemy because there is nothing she can do to prevent it.

But her embarrassment is not his problem, as Enishi reminds himself once again as he carts the twitching heap of woman back into her own room to lay her gently back onto her bed. He will ensure that she stays alive so that _onee_-_sama_ will be pleased. He will keep her here until the Battousai has allowed his grief to destroy him. And then he's going to dump her back in Japan and never think about her again.

She is not Enishi's problem. Enishi will not let himself begin to care for Zetsumei Kurohyou.

He will not.

* * *

When Midori woke up in the strange room in the strange bed in the _fucking_ _bathrobe_ for the second time, it took an immense amount of will not to throw a temper tantrum. She had hoped that what she remembered was just a screwed-up nightmare. She had hoped to wake up wrapped in Kenshin's arms back at the Kamiya Dojo, perhaps with the burning scent of one of Kaoru's horrid breakfasts tickling her nose.

She had _not_ wanted to wake up in a strange room in a strange bed in a fucking _bathrobe_.

She brought up an arm and laid it across her eyes, blocking out the warm sunlight that fell upon her face through the open window. She could feel the panic she had experienced upon first waking here trying to well in her throat again and ruthlessly shoved it down. Panic would fix nothing. Her body ached enough as it was without panic triggering another seizure and adding more lingering pains for Midori to have to deal with. She needed to stay relatively calm. She needed to think.

She needed to find something else to wear and get out of this fucking bathrobe.

Removing her arm from her eyes, Midori sat up in the bed. The way the room immediately began to spin around her let her know that sitting up hadn't been the best idea, and she had to brace herself on her trembling arms to keep from falling back to lie on the mattress. She closed her eyes against a sudden onslaught of nausea, shaking her head once in an effort to silence the faint ringing that had started up in her ears. Her face felt hot, her chest painfully tight.

Midori gritted her teeth against her body's weakness, opening her eyes once more and determinedly swinging her legs out from under the covers of the bed and onto the floor. Again she paused as her body and senses protested the movement, waiting for the tilted floor to straighten out before she slowly began to stand. The muscles in her legs trembled slightly as she began to put weight on them, the way they always did after one of her annoying seizures.

She stood there by the bed for a long moment, breathing deeply in and out as she tried to decide whether or not she was strong enough to walk towards the door of the room without risking the possibility of a fall. Normally after a seizure she would be confined to bed-rest for hours under the watchful eyes of both Megumi-san and Kenshin, the former as her physician and the latter as a worry wart. But they weren't here, as Midori reminded herself while taking a hesitant, wobbly step forward and pausing again to see how her body was going to react to the movement. Her friends were not here. She was alone.

She had made it to the western-style door and wrapped her hand around the doorknob when said door was suddenly pushed open from the outside. The force with which it was opened dragged Midori sideways and would have sent her stumbling to her knees if a well-muscled, steadying arm had not wrapped around her waist and pulled her back.

"You shouldn't be out of bed, woman," a gruff voice informed her from much too close a range.

Midori wretched herself out of the steadying arm and whirled on wobbly legs to face her companion. Enishi Yukishiro watched her with sharp eyes behind those dark glasses he seemed to always wear, one arm now hanging limply at his side while the other supported a tray on which several steaming dishes sat. He had shed the cape-like jacket he had been wearing the last time she woke up, showing heavily bandaged arms and emphasizing his muscular torso under his Chinese tunic. He stepped further into the room, kicking the door shut behind him with a bang that caused a flinch to jerk Midori's body.

"Sit down."

Midori narrowed her eyes at the man, not moving. Sick and weak she might currently be, but there was no way in hell she was going to start taking orders. Not from this man before her, not from anyone.

Enishi was not pleased with her noncompliance. "I said sit down, woman. You need to eat something and I can't give you this food if you're just going to stand there."

"Do you think me stupid?" Midori snapped back, shifting slightly into a defensive position; the trembling was gone from her legs, her body springing to alertness as Enishi had come into the room. She felt suddenly stronger, steadier on her feet. And she was _not_ going to back down from him. "Why would I eat something my enemy has prepared?"

"I am not your enemy, woman." Enishi was scowling now, the ugly expression twisting his handsome face into something frightening. "My quarrel is with the Battousai only. I am not the one who enjoys killing women, that would be _him_. Just sit down and eat this."

"I refuse."

She was pissing him off, she could see; strange cords of muscles seemed to be popping out of his neck as something above his left eye began to twitch. Abruptly he stormed over to the bed, setting the tray of food down and turning to glare menacingly at her. He pointed one finger at the food. "Eat it."

"No."

Enishi stomped back over to stand too close, his face inches from her own. He reached out to grab her arm and she twisted away from him, pivoting around him and putting some much-needed floor space in between them. The hated robe twisted around her legs, slowing her retreat as she tried not to trip.

"Don't touch me," she growled, glaring fiercely at him despite the non-threatening picture she made standing there in nothing but a borrowed bathrobe. "Don't you dare touch me, Yukishiro."

He stared at her as though she were insane. "I did not intend to hurt you. Stop being so stubborn and come eat this. You'll never get stronger if you don't eat something, woman."

Midori's back bumped into the wall across the room, abruptly ending her swift retreat even as Enishi continued to advance upon her. Fuck, now she was cornered, she _hated_ being cornered. She wished desperately for her _katana_.

Enishi's hand closed over her upper right arm an instant before her left palm connected with his nose.

He released her, stumbling back slightly as he brought a hand up to his now-bleeding nose. Midori scowled in frustration at her own weakness; she had hoped to break that damned pretty nose, not just bloody it. She was obviously a lot weaker than normal after a seizure. How inconvenient.

"Don't _touch_ me," Midori snarled, darting somewhat unsteadily away from the wall and getting past Enishi so that she was no longer cornered. Her eyes went to the door, but she had only taken a step or two towards the portal before a hand again closed around her upper arm, jerking her around until she stood facing the seriously pissed off Enishi.

"Do not ever strike me again," he growled menacingly, easily holding onto Midori as she weakly attempted to free herself. Enishi's hand was like steel around her arm, gripping hard enough to bruise; his other hand was pinching his nose in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"You should remember that you are my captive, woman. It would be wise on your part to do as I say. When I tell you to eat, you will eat. When I tell you to sleep, you will sleep. I am not above giving you more scars to add to your already impressive collection."

Midori, who had been absorbing his words with half an ear as she both struggled to free herself from his hold and struggled to make the room stay reasonably still, froze completely at that last statement. Slowly, painfully, Midori raised her emerald orbs to Enishi's face, horror plain in her gaze as several puzzle pieces fell into place in her mind. He knew about her scars. She was wearing a bathrobe that didn't belong to her; she didn't even _own_ a bathrobe.

_Enishi_ had seen her _bare_.

Oh, _gods_.

She yanked against his hold on her arm, and this time Enishi let her go; her sudden freedom had her stumbling back a few steps before she stopped, trembling once again. She vaguely wondered whether Enishi would make the mistake of thinking that she was frightened by his threat – as if he could actually frighten her, who had been partner and obsession to the late Makoto Shishio. No, she did not tremble in fear.

She trembled in hot, burning _shame_.

"How dare you," she whispered, swaying slightly where she stood as the room began to twirl around her again. Her head throbbed; her chest pulsed with a deep burning ache. She wanted to sleep and never wake up.

"Where are my clothes?" she rasped, stumbling backwards until her back again met a wall. This time, she didn't panic at being cornered; her weakening legs slowly gave out, lowering her little by little until she was sitting on the floor of the room, staring ahead of her without seeing. "What did you do with my clothes? Where is my _katana_?"

Enishi huffed like a petulant child, glaring down his slightly puffy nose at her. "Your clothing was ruined, so I disposed of them. I have your _katana_ safe; I will return it to you eventually. If you would just shut up and eat –" – he pointed again at the tray on the bed – "– I will give you a different robe to wear once you are done."

Midori briefly considered the merit of telling Enishi exactly where he could stuff both his food and his extra robe. She decided against it, opting instead to focus on more important matters.

"Why am I here?" Her voice was getting raspy, probably from lack of water for however long she had been unconscious. "What do you want from me? What did you do to Himura?"

Kenshin. Shit, she didn't even know if Kenshin was alive, or if that last blow had killed him. What if he was dead?

No. No fucking way. No one was allowed to kill Kenshin Himura unless Midori did the deed herself. If Enishi Yukishiro told her that he had ended Kenshin's life, Midori was going to murder the white-haired son of a bitch with her bare hands. She would make him suffer. She would have him begging her to kill him.

Enishi was talking again, something about Midori being here for the pleasure of his dead sister. Midori cut him off mid-sentence.

"What did you do to Himura?" she repeated, getting her legs under her and forcing herself to stand. She was leaning heavily against the wall and the room was still tilted at an extremely weird angle, but she was standing. "What did you do to him? Where is he?"

"I don't care where he is," Enishi spat, something ugly and cold flashing behind his eyes. He turned away from her and made for the door, glancing once over his shoulder. "Eat. Now."

"Is he alive?" Midori blurted, taking a stumbling step forwards and nearly pitching over as her sense of equilibrium refused to realign. "Is he still alive? Did you kill him?"

She did not even realize that she was shouting, a terrible look of anger and pain on her face as she forced her legs to carry her across the room even as Enishi opened the door to leave. Rage and worry gave her the necessary strength to plant her hand flat on the door and slam it shut again before she grabbed Enishi by one bandaged arm, squeezing as hard as she could in the hopes of causing him pain.

"Answer!" she demanded, disregarding the fact that his body had gone tense when she slammed the door in his face and the way his muscles were bunching under her grip. "Is he alive? Is he?"

"Unhand me." Enishi spoke in a low, harsh voice, the sound as threatening as the look in his eyes as he glared at her. Midori ignored it all.

Moving with a speed her battered body shouldn't have possessed, Midori hooked a foot around Enishi's ankle and yanked, throwing him off balance enough for just an instant so that she could shove him backwards, causing the man to fall to the floor with a grunt. She was on top of him in the next moment, straddling his strong chest as she wrapped her hands around his neck. She leaned in close to his face as she attempted to choke him, her teeth bared in a snarl of rage.

"Answer. Answer now," she commanded her captive, squeezing his neck as tightly as she could and ignoring the feel of Enishi's hands sliding over her legs under the stupid robe. "Is he alive? Tell me!"

Excruciating pain ripped through Midori's right leg as Enishi ruthlessly closed his hand around her abused knee-cap. Midori bit her tongue against a gasp of pain, her fingers unconsciously loosening for a small moment. That was all Enishi needed.

Midori's back hit the floor with a loud thud, momentarily knocking the breath out of her even as she scrambled to get up. Enishi was already back on his feet, towering over her with a furious expression on his face. He made a move as though to kick her, checked himself almost immediately, and settled instead for merely glaring fiercely at her as she struggled to rise.

"Do _not_ do that again, woman," he warned, still in that same low harsh tone that was as dangerous as a blade in his hands would have been. "Do _not_."

Midori ignored him, wincing as she put a hand to her throbbing ribs. That landing obviously hadn't done her broken bones any good, and between them and her knee-cap – which felt like it was on fire – she was in a fair amount of pain. She paid no attention to any of it.

"Tell me," she rasped, taking a wobbly step towards him with every intention of forcing an answer out of the bastard. "Tell me!"

"He's alive, woman. I didn't kill your precious Battousai."

Relief – wonderful, amazing, crippling relief – doused the fire of Midori's rage like water. She felt herself sag with it, felt her spirit soar with it even as she stumbled over to sit heavily on the bed, completely ignoring the tray of food and the man standing in the room with her. She put her elbows on top of her thighs and buried her face in her hands, weak with the joy of knowing that Kenshin was still alive. Thank the gods.

"I don't understand you," a voice intoned quietly, the threat gone and amazement taking its place. Midori lifted her head to meet the gaze of Enishi, who was currently staring at her as though seeing a ghost.

Perhaps he was.

"He is a murderer," he growled, hands fisting and relaxing sporadically at his sides. "He has killed thousands of people."

"I've killed more," was all Midori could say, still riding the high of the wonderful news.

"He _tried_ to kill _you_!" Enishi raged, stomping closer to her as his anger grew. "He betrayed you and tried to kill you just like he killed _onee_-_sama_! Why do you still love him? _How_ can you still love that man after what he did to you?"

"None of your fucking business," Midori snapped in reply, not bothering to stand and defend herself against his rage. "What do you care, anyway, Yukishiro? Is the whole world supposed to hate Himura as you do?"

Enishi glared down at her mutely, fury and disbelief warring in his eyes. Neither of them moved for a long moment.

Abruptly Enishi turned his back on her, his shoulders hunched slightly as he crossed to the door again and wrenched it open.

"Eat that or I will hold you down and stuff it down your throat, woman."

"Try it and I'll break your nose next time, Yukishiro!"

He said nothing more, simply stepped out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Crazy, annoying bastard.

* * *

Stupid, _stupid_ woman.

Enishi glares out at the ocean from his balcony, fuming over the woman's foolishness. How dare she raise a hand against him? He was only trying to feed her! He has saved her from a horrible life with that bastard Battousai; the woman should be groveling at his feet, not trying to kill him.

He brings a hand up to his face, fingering his somewhat puffy nose gingerly. Anger races through his veins at the pain his touch evokes. What kind of woman strikes men, anyway? It is unnatural, just as the woman's preferred choice of clothing is unnatural. _Hakama_ and _gi_ are men's wear; fighting is for men to do. If not for the fact that he has already seen her bared body, Enishi might wonder if this woman is in fact a man. _Kami_ knows the Battousai could be queer, what with that hideous pink _gi_ he wears these days.

_Onee_-_sama_ would never have struck a man. _Onee_-_sama_ would have fainted from the horror of being dressed in men's clothes.

"What happened to you?" Gein, that annoying pest, has come out onto Enishi's balcony without invitation. Enishi grips the arms of his chair in suppressed anger at his rudeness.

"None of your business," he snaps, glaring at Gein from the corner of one eye.

Gein chuckles, as though amused by the open threat in Enishi's face. "True enough. Though I suppose I do owe you a favor; your Jinchu did allow me to test the capabilities of my Iwanbou and led to the creation of my perfect artistic beauty."

"And you helped me in the pursuit of Jinchu," Enishi replies irritably; he is not in the mood to put up with Gein's false gratitude today. "We're even."

"Hmm." Gein turns and strolls back inside, waving one hand over his shoulder. "Just see to it that I'm on the next ship out of here. I have business to attend to."

Enishi smirks. Oh, Gein will be on the ship tomorrow, no doubt about it. Enishi has even arranged for the puppet master to have a few…traveling companions. It's all been taken care of, and after tomorrow Gein will be out of Enishi's hair for good.

Which reminds him… Heishin will be on the ship too.

Shit. He hates that annoying little piss-ant. Stalking around Enishi's organization with those four brainless thugs he calls bodyguards, trying to intimidate Enishi into signing over command of the organization early, getting in the way of Enishi's Jinchu…the pipsqueak is a nuisance.

If he puts a hand on the woman tomorrow Enishi will kill him.

Enishi blinks, eyes narrowing at that particularly vitriolic thought. Why does he care whether the woman has a run in with Heishin or not? No, scratch that, he doesn't care. Heishin can toy with the woman as much as he wants – as long as he doesn't kill her. It might even be good for the woman to be brought down a few notches.

In fact, Enishi is now looking forward to it.

The bitch deserves a little pain after her rudeness earlier.

Enishi's stomach growls; he's been sitting out here for too long, the sun has started to go down. He is surprised at his own hunger; he has gone days without food before, and he did eat before attempting to feed the woman earlier. He brushes the confusion off and stands, striding with supreme confidence back inside and down to the ground floor of his mansion, where the kitchen is located. The confidence – as well as his footsteps – falters slightly when he sees that the kitchen is already occupied.

The woman is in his kitchen, stirring a pot of something on the stove.

"What are you doing, woman?" he hisses, annoyed that she is keeping him from his own meal. He just fed her a few hours ago, why is she in here now?

"I'm cooking, Yukishiro, what does it look like? Your food was abominable. If you intend to poison me, you will have to do so with actual poison, because I have no intention of eating something you prepare again." All of this said with her back turned to Enishi. A glance shows the hand that is not currently stirring is being used to prop the woman up against the counter; clearly she is still weak.

A throb from Enishi's nose reminds him of the damage she can do even when 'weak'.

He can't really blame her for the insult to his cooking; he has never really had to cook for himself, not in years, and he's never been very good at it. He had contemplated having his personal cook from Shanghai come to the island but had decided against that plan. It appears that his mistake will not matter, however; the smell coming from whatever the woman is stirring is divine.

Enishi steps just to the side of the doorway and leans his back against the wall, folding his arms over his chest. He feels slightly uncomfortable with the thought of leaving the woman alone while she cooks; if she has another of her fits and he isn't around, she could hurt herself, scald herself with whatever's in that pot or burn herself on the stove. He's fairly confident that she would agree with him on the fact that she has more than enough scars already.

The woman says nothing more to him; every once in a while she will add something to her pot or taste her concoction, but she never comments or asks what he would like. She simply stirs and adds and tastes until what she tastes is pleasing to her. Enishi briefly considers offering to lift the heavy pot off the fire when it is clear that the woman is done cooking, but he doesn't have the chance to voice his offering; the woman easily moves the pot and begins hunting for bowls.

Curious, Enishi moves to the pot as the woman rummages through his cabinets. The stuff inside smells so good Enishi can feel his stomach muscles tightening in anticipation; he peers into the pot in frank curiosity. The liquid within is not clear, but a murky brown color. Enishi can see chunks of meat floating in the stuff, along with carrots and what he thinks are potatoes. Strange, he didn't even know he _had_ potatoes in this house.

"Here."

The woman is beside him now, holding out a large bowl for him to take. Another, slightly smaller bowl is clutched in her other hand.

"Are there spoons somewhere in this kitchen?"

He takes the bowl from her without thought, moving to the drawer that contains spoons as if on autopilot. He takes one for himself and silently hands one to the woman. Without bothering to thank him, the woman turns back to the pot and uses the ladle she has been stirring with to scoop out a generous helping of the food. She breezes by him with her full bowl without another word.

Enishi fills his own bowl, and then follows after the woman out of sheer boredom. It has been such a long time since he last ate a meal with someone who was as unafraid of him as this stupid woman clearly is. Perhaps he will enjoy the experience.

Or perhaps he can make her begin to fear him, as women should fear men.

He finds the woman outside – annoying him, as he did not give her permission to leave the house – sitting propped up against a tree with her bowl of food in her lap, her eyes closed as she takes several deep breathes. He stands on the path outside his mansion, watching the woman for a long moment before she twitches slightly.

"What do you want now? Directions on how to eat stew?" Her voice is biting, clearly annoyed if somewhat weaker than it was the night Enishi stalked her through the streets of Tokyo. Enishi ignores her, folding himself to sit against a tree directly across the path from the woman. He's starting to get fed up with her mouth. He half hopes that this stew will be as disgusting as his food was, so that he can pay her back for her cheek.

He fills his spoon and brings the food to his mouth.

…Damn. No luck. This stuff is _good_.

They sit in uneasy silence, eating together but not actually _together_. Enishi can tell through a few glances that the woman is far away inside her head. Probably thinking about that murderous bastard Battousai, worrying over his health.

When she suddenly stands, Enishi is on his feet before he even realizes that he's moving. He freezes, his eyes locking with the woman's as she tenses as though expecting him to attack her. Enishi closes his eyes, trying to force his body to relax before he _does_ attack her.

_Onee_-_sama_ is still smiling, but she is shaking her head at him like she used to do when he was a child and did something foolish.

_I'm sorry onee-sama don't be mad I'm not going to hurt the woman I promise…_

He lets out a long breath and opens his eyes, studying the still-tensed woman across from him with forced disdain. She very carefully un-tenses, slowly moving to walk back to the mansion with her empty bowl and spoon in one hand. Fine tremors are once again wracking her too-thin body.

"Woman."

She stops but does not turn to face him as she should.

"I will not hurt you, woman. You are simply a guest here for the time being. _Onee_-_sama_ would be furious with me if any harm came to you while you were under my protection."

She does turn around at this, eyeing him in a way that makes him want to bristle or wash vigorously, he isn't sure which.

"If you were stupid enough to attempt to harm me, I would stop you. By definition, a guest is one who is visiting and is allowed to leave whenever they like; therefore it is foolish to apply the term to someone you are holding prisoner against their will. And as I have said before, your sister is dead; she cannot become angry with you over your treatment of me, nor do I believe she would care were she alive. Don't try to paint this into some pretty picture-story, Yukishiro: I am your prisoner, trapped here by distance and sharks and nothing more."

And she turns and disappears into the mansion.

Enishi is really beginning to hope the Battousai dies sooner rather than later.

* * *

Someone was here. Midori could hear them in the house.

She was currently raiding one of the dozens of empty rooms in this enormous place. She had stumbled across it the evening before after her awkward meal with Enishi, and had been insanely pleased to find it stocked with clothes: kimono, _gi_, _hakama_, _yukata_ for both men and women, those weird Chinese tunics Enishi always wore, and both tabi and Enishi's stiff Chinese boots. But best of all were the many rolls of cloth bandages that lined the floor of the weird little room-within-a-room that had all the clothing in it; cloth bandages like those Midori had used for years to hide the scars that marred her torso, front and back.

She had woken this morning feeling much better. Her body was not as sore all over; her fever was gone; and her knee, in spite of Enishi's rough treatment of it the previous day, was once again free of swelling and more able to hold her weight as it should. Only one thing would make this day better, and she was about to take care of that little detail.

She was going to get rid of this damn robe.

She changed quickly, forced to settle for a dark blue _gi_ and grey _hakama_ instead of her preferred black. Enishi could keep his fancy kimonos; Midori had worn a kimono only once since the war, thanks to Kaoru's meddling, and she was not keen to repeat the experience. A pair of _tabi_ and sandals later and Midori was walking out of the room.

Right into someone's chest.

She leapt back just as the someone tried to grab her, resulting in a rather large hand swinging much too close by her nose as she retreated back into the room. Midori eyed the person she had collided with, fighting hard not to show her surprise at his immense size. This guy was freaking colossal! He reminded her somewhat of Anji, the hulking monk who had been a member of Shishio's Juppongatana – except this guy was bigger.

"Master Heishin wants to see you, woman," the man growled, reaching out to take her by the arm.

Midori had no idea who this 'Master Heishin' was, but every instinct in her being was telling her it would be a very bad idea to let this giant get his hands on her. She jerked away from him.

Moments later Midori came tearing out of the room, slipping slightly on the rug in the hallway as she ducked to avoid the hand coming for her face. She took off down the hallway, thanking all the gods that the giant's size slowed him down as she made for the stairs. Coming around a corner at break-neck speeds, Midori slid to a jarring halt as she caught sight of the man guarding the top of the stairs leading to the ground floor. In dress, looks, size, lack of expression – this man was a mirror image of the one chasing her. Midori had heard of biological twins, but she had never seen a pair before.

This was just her shitty luck.

Not stopping long to curse that luck, Midori pelted straight towards the giant. Apparently the man thought she was going to try to tackle him, as he raised his hands as though to catch her. Instead, Midori waited until the last possible instant to go down low into a slide, shooting in between the giant man's legs and clear down a landing of stairs before her feet touched anything other than air. She landed clumsily, rolling once head-over-heels to bang into the wall and jar her broken ribs enough to bring the taste of blood to her mouth. Midori had no time to dwell on the pain, however; the twins were coming down the stairs after her even as she lurched to her feet and planted her backside on the stair rail. One of them made a grab for her just as she slid out of reach, riding the banister down to the ground floor where she again rolled head-over-heels before coming to a crouched stop, backing as fast as she could in such a position for the nearest corner. Once safely ensconced in that corner, Midori's eyes darted from the twins descending the stairs to the group of men standing close to the front door.

This time, her eyes did widen perceptibly.

Two more giant men were standing with Enishi and a runt of a man with a bad haircut and beady little eyes. Two giant men who just happened to look identical to the two giant men coming down the last of the stairs. All four looked completely identical, from facial expression – or rather, lack thereof – to dress to physical appearance.

Midori had never heard of four men looking exactly alike. She looked over the quartet and decided that they must be Chinese, as their clothing would indicate; this would explain a lot, as China was of course a strange and freakish, backwards country compared to Japan, and everyone knew that freakish phenomenon were almost common in China. Look at Enishi, after all.

Enishi himself was standing next to the much smaller man with the hideous hair-cut and beady little eyes that reminded Midori of a rat. He also wore Chinese clothing, all in black – which did nothing to aid his unattractive looks. Once the two men who chased her came to the bottom of the stairs, they moved with their clones to form a tight square around the small man, like a human wall between him and the rest of the world.

His voice, when he spoke in heavily accented Japanese, was nearly as grating on Midori's ears as the voice of that transvestite, Otowa Hyouga.

"So this is your guest, Enishi? Fairly primitive, isn't she?"

…_Primitive?_

Midori snapped up from her crouching position in the corner, taking long angry strides in the mousy prick of a man's direction while disregarding the four behemoths bunched protectively around him. She would show him primitive. She would see how primitive this little pansy thought she was when she tore his offensive tongue out.

Enishi said nothing as she stalked towards his guest; the white-haired man simply folded his arms – which were still heavily bandaged – across his chest and stepped back to watch the show.

"It is not usually a good idea to insult someone who can kill you with her bare hands, rat," Midori hissed, a grin splitting her face at the shock on the stranger's face, the raised eyebrow from Enishi. Clearly he was unaware that Midori could speak Chinese, a language she had picked up and toyed with during her decade of solitary travel. She wondered what he would do if she started cursing him in English.

The wimpy-looking stranger recovered quickly from his surprise, glaring disdainfully at Midori from safely behind his mammoth bodyguards. "Women shouldn't speak to their betters, bitch. Mind your place."

Midori snorted, eyes roving from the rat to his bodyguards as she assessed their little formation. "You think yourself above me, rat? A pathetic little man from that hellhole of a country, so weak you cannot even defend yourself without these monsters around you?"

Formation assessed, weak spots found, Midori had no trouble at all getting past the behemoths and right up in the little man's face. She had her hand bunched in the collar of his high-collared Chinese tunic and him lifted off his feet over her head before his giant bodyguards could even react.

"Your arrogance offends me, rat. You are not above me in any sense aside from your current bodily elevation, and you would do well to mind _your_ place when in my presence. I dislike having to point out the obvious, but as you are Chinese and therefore pathetic, I will give you one warning and one warning only."

She jerked the man down to her eye-level, snarling directly into his ugly face.

"Do _not_ fuck with me, _rat_, or I will kill you with my bare hands."

Something very hard smacked her in the side; she let go of her prisoner and whirled, ducking to avoid the next giant's fist as it swung at her. She rolled, getting back out of the square and putting a slight distance between herself and the four bodyguards as a precaution – because _damn_ those guys could hit hard. Thank _kami_ it was her uninjured ribs that had just been struck.

A glance back at the quartet showed that Enishi had moved to put himself between them and Midori.

"Back off, Heishin." Enishi's voice was as cold as Midori had ever heard it; she wondered that he would speak in such a cruel tone to this rodent. Were they not friends?

Heishin, as the rat was apparently called, was looking past Enishi to Midori. His face was twisted with fury, but there was just the slightest hint of something else behind those beady little eyes that rubbed Midori the wrong way. It was a look she had seen many times in her life; the look that had adorned the faces of her allies during her two-week period in that hell of a hotel as they molested her; the look that Makoto Shishio had worn every time he looked at her up until he had burst into flames for the second and final time.

Midori couldn't help but laugh, drawing Enishi's gaze to her as well.

"How pathetic," she sneered. "The runt of a Chinaman becomes excited when threatened with death. Perhaps you should warn him, Yukishiro, of what happened to the last men who attempted to force themselves on me to assuage their lust. Their fate will be heavenly compared to what I will do to this perverted little _rat_ if he so much as looks at me wrong."

Enishi snarled, swinging back to Heishin with murder in his eyes. Those strange cords of muscles that Midori had seen the day before were standing out again, joined by muscles in his face; the effect was frightening.

"Heishin." Enishi's voice was akin to an Arctic wind, slicing through the air and causing the Chinaman to flinch as though struck. "This woman is under _my_ protection, Heishin. Understand?"

Fear twisted the features that rage had previously deformed. Heishin seemed to be temporarily struck dumb with terror, reduced to nodding his head as his massive bodyguards closed in protectively around him.

"Get out of my sight," Enishi snapped, still standing tensely between Midori and the rat Hei Shin.

The five men were quick to do as he said, retreating up the stairs as swiftly as they could without breaking their little configuration. In a remarkably short amount of time, they were gone, leaving Midori and Enishi standing alone by the foot of the stairs. A door slammed somewhere upstairs, and then silence reigned.

Midori eyed Enishi's rigid back somewhat warily. She was puzzled by his reaction on her behalf; why did he give a shit whether Heishin tried to molest her or not? She was slightly confused by his behavior towards the Chinaman; obviously they were _not_ friends, but then why was the little prick here?

She couldn't help but think that her captor was turning out to be a very complex, confusing headache of a man.

Enishi spun to face her and Midori tensed, preparing to defend herself if he decided to take out the anger etched into his face on her. Enishi eyed her coldly before brushing past her and stalking towards the front door. He threw the door open, stepped outside, and turned his head to look at her over his shoulder.

"Let's go."

Midori did not move. "Where, exactly?"

"I want to spar. Come with me."

…This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.

* * *

A/N: As always, reviews would be appreciated.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

Aoshi Shinomori carefully read the message he had just received from his sources in Tokyo for the third time. Once finished, he calmly tucked the message back into his robe, stood from his seated position in the temple, and walked outside. He would return to the Aoi-Ya and pack. It appeared that he had business to attend to in Tokyo.

Aoshi silently trod the familiar streets of Kyoto, one part of his brain analyzing everyone he passed for signs of a threat while the rest of his brain mulled over the message he had just read. The content of said message bothered him more than it should. Why was it that he felt so…not worried really, but somehow _off_at the thought of Zetsumei Kurohyou's death? The woman was of no import to him; she was merely Himura Battousai's old partner and lover, thought to have been killed by the Battousai during the Bakumatsu. He had not had any significant interactions with the woman last year during his brief and pointless partnership with Shishio, nor had he seen her since Hajime Saito had walked into a pillar of fire with her – again – apparently dead body cradled in his arms. He had been informed by Okina when the woman had appeared several months later to reclaim her belongings – which the Battousai had purposely failed to deal with and which had not yet been thrown away. Other than that he had no contact with the woman.

So why, after reading the message from his contacts in Tokyo informing him of the woman's murder and Battousai's retreat into Rakuninmura, did Aoshi's instincts tell him that it would be important for him to go to Tokyo at once?

Aoshi was not yet certain, but the former Okashiro of the Obiwabanshu was not a man to ignore his instincts.

"Aoshi-sama! Aoshi-sama!"

Aoshi calmly stopped just inside the Aoi-Ya, waiting as the small blur pelted towards him and pulled up inches from his person. The blur proceeded to jump up and down in a frantic manner, waving a piece of paper very near to Aoshi's face.

"Himura and Kaoru have been attacked and that assassin woman's dead and Himura's in Rakuninmura and Kaoru wants us to bring her Tomoe Yukishiro's diary! We have to go to Tokyo right now, Aoshi-sama!"

Misao, being Misao and therefore lacking in the calm that should come natural to a ninja, was nearly in tears by the end of her little speech. Those large blue-green eyes stared imploringly up at Aoshi, begging him to fix everything, to make everything better.

Still as calm as a windless summer day, Aoshi withdrew from his robe the paper on which his message had been written. "I am aware of the situation. Please pack, Misao. I will inform Okina that we will be traveling to Tokyo."

He would not be telling the gossipy old fool that he was only taking Misao with him because he was a sucker for the look she had just given him. Misao did not require this information, either. Aoshi brushed past Misao, mind running over the things he would need to take with him. His double kudachi, of course; the surgeon tools he picked up years ago; money. He was not worried about Misao's luggage; in spite of her spontaneous personality, Misao was well-trained and would know what must be taken and what must be left behind. Her affection for the Kamiya woman and her worry over the Battousai would hasten her packing, so Aoshi was perfectly confident that she would be ready to leave at his slightest command.

…Perhaps it was time to take her to _their _graves, since he was unsure when he and Misao would both be in the area around which he had buried them again. Perhaps this would be the appropriate time to exhume the skulls from their ignoble resting places and return his comrades to their true home. Perhaps that was why his instincts were urging him to travel to Tokyo.

…Or not. It did not matter at the present time. He would know why he had gone there when he was meant to know.

He would speak with Okina now, pack, and then go by the temple at which Battousai had left the diary of his dead wife. Misao had said that the Kamiya woman requested it, for whatever reason, and he did not wish to deal with the woman's displeasure should the diary fail to materialize upon their arrival.

After all, the woman had such a shrill voice.

* * *

Hajime Saito, known by those in the Meiji Era as Goro Fugita, puffed hard on his cigarette and shot a lethal glare at the broom-headed man in front of him.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me about this immediately, you idiot?" he snapped, snatching the papers Chou held out to him with what was probably unnecessary force. Not that Saito cared, mind. He was about a second away from tossing Chou head-first through the window of his office, consequences be damned. Chou, being not quite so stupid after a year under Saito's boot heel, was aware of this.

"I been tryin ta tell ya fer tha last three days! Ya said nobody was ta bother ya an ye've been cooped up in this stickin' office since the shit hit the fan with that Yukishiro punk. It ain't my fault ya've been mopin', Boss."

Alright, Saito amended, perhaps Chou was not aware of the imminent danger to his person.

"Start explaining, Chou," he ordered, making sure to use his silkiest, deadliest voice to let Chou know exactly how much trouble he was currently in; let it not be said that Saito never gave fair warning before he killed someone.

"Tell me exactly where you found these and exactly what this torture chamber looked like. Don't leave out a single detail."

Perhaps that fool _youma_ wasn't beyond aid after all.

* * *

Midori caught the _bokken _Enishi tossed at her in heavy disappointment, greatly missing the feel of her _katana _in her hand. She had hoped – rather foolishly, she supposed – that they would be sparring with steel blades, meaning she would get her _katana_ back at last. Instead they were going to use these stupid pieces of wood. Great.

"Stop scowling, woman," Enishi snapped, pacing back and forth across the floor of his dojo. He had stormed out of the house with Midori following close behind him and had made a beeline for a path that led off to the right, disappearing into the heavy tree cover. Midori had followed him, surprised when they had come across a dojo seemingly hidden in the little forest of the island. Just how rich was Enishi, to be able to afford all of this? His own dojo, a mansion, a fucking _island_? What the hell kind of resources did this crazy white-haired man have access to?

"I thought you said that you would return my _katana _to me," Midori grumbled, twirling the glorified stick in her hand. She had really been hoping he would; she'd planned to use the chance to either kill or maim him, then threaten that pansy of a China man into getting her off the godsdamned island and back to Kenshin. Now her plans were ruined.

Shit.

As though he had read her mind, that infuriating smirk Enishi was so fond of wearing stretched itself across his face.

"Perhaps you are under the delusion that I am a fool," he taunted, waving his own _bokken _back in forth in front of him like an over-sized, remonstrating finger. "I will return your _katana_ to you in time, as I have promised. But that does not mean I will give you the opportunity to kill me with it."

Bastard. "You do realize that you are just as likely to die now, after that comment and having put a weapon of any kind in my hands?"

Enishi shrugged, clearly unconcerned and acting strangely as though he were enjoying their exchange. "He - or she - who speaks loudest, falls the hardest, woman."

She was going to fucking kill him, _bokken_ or no.

She tossed the _bokken_aside, bending over and putting her hands flat on the polished wood floor. A second later she was upside down, the blood rushing to her head and swamping her with dizziness. Midori was mortified to find herself falling, landing on her back on the dojo floor with her face burning and the room spinning in circles around her.

A low chucked cracked in her ears. "As I said..."

"Shut up, Yukishiro," Midori spat, levering herself up to a sitting position and rotating her head to glare at him.

He laughed at her. Stood there and laughed like her lack of balance was humorous rather than alarming. Midori blocked him out, focusing instead on herself, on her trembling hands that were currently balled into fists in her lap. Why did she feel so weak? Yes, she had been unconscious for three days and had several broken ribs, but Midori had suffered far worse injuries during her stint as a _hitokiri _for the Ishin Shishi with much less debilitating results. Why then was she having so much trouble today?

Sanosuke would probably made some wisecrack about old age right about now, Midori mused with annoyance. She was _not_ old. She was in her prime, damn it.

Snarling, Midori threw herself back into her stretches with a vengeance, rushing through them without paying any attention to the bouts of dizziness or the twinges of pain in her left side. She was Zetsumei Kurohyou, for heaven's sake; dizziness and pain would never keep her from a fight, and she wanted this fight. She had lain prone and helpless while Enishi had sliced Kenshin open from shoulder to hip; she was going to get her payback right now, come Hell or high water.

Done with the annoying yet neccessary stretches, Midori stomped over to her disgarded _bokken _and snatched it up, turning once more to face Enishi. He was relaxed, lazy, smiling at her as though the two of them were old friends.

"Done yet?" he asked in a faux polite way, those usually cold grey eyes warming slightly with his obvious humour.

Midori had to wonder at the kind of man who could go from homocidal rage - ready to rip his little Chinese visitor to pieces with his bare hands - to nearly bouncing with humour at her expense in such a remarkably short amount of time.

"I will take pleasure in wiping that look from your face, Yukishiro," she shot back, crouching low into a defensive position.

Enishi said nothing in reply, nor did he drop the smirk; he merely moved.

Midori whirled, still crouched, to counter his attack, amazed that he had blown right past her like that. Their _bokkens _had barely connected before Enishi's foot smashed into his weapon, forcing her to slide back across the smooth surface of the dojo's floor. Midori flipped away, landing on her feet and using her knees to spring at Enishi, _bokken_ poised to strike -

Only to miss as Enishi dodged, swinging at her side with his own _bokken_ and also missing as _she_ dodged.

Holy shit this freak was _fast_.

Enishi pummeled her defenses up and down the length of his dojo, barely leaving her time to launch attacks of her own. Midori, for her part, pushed herself past the encroaching dizziness and dodged hit after hit, repelling some and simply getting out of the way for others. Once, she rolled to the side a second before Enishi's _bokken _struck the floor; and even using a piece of wood in place of a steel blade, Enishi still managed to crack the wood of the floor like the shell of a walnut.

Midori was injured, weakened from a fever, and at a disadvantage to Enishi; she tired quickly, taking a hard blow to her forearm when she blocked a strike intended for her throbbing ribs. Enishi gave her no time to regroup, again swinging his foot to connect with his _bokken_, smashing her arm into her side and sending her sliding across the floor. Pain erupted from her ribs, spreading like fire throughout her torso until she could barely breath around it.

"You seem to be getting tired, woman," Enishi panted; he too was winded from chasing her all over the dojo, though not near as badly as Midori. "Shall we call it a match?"

Fuck that. Midori wanted to hurt him, and she wasn't giving up until she was satisfied that she had caused him pain. She stood, wincing at the throb of her ribs as she straightened; blood welled in her mouth and she promptly spit it out. Enishi eyed the red blob on his polished floor for a moment before refocusing on her; to her shock, he actually looked concerned as he dropped his arm to let his _bokken_ hang uselessly at his side.

"I didn't intend to harm you," he said at once, stepping backwards as though to give her more space. "I had forgotten about your ribs. We should stop. _Onee_-_sama_ doesn't want - "

What the hell was _wrong_ with this man?

"I don't give a _shit _what she wants," Midori snarled, furious at his abrupt mood swing and the mention of that bitch that had caused this mess in the first place.

"_Onee_-_sama_ wants, _onee_-_sama _wants, can't you think for yourself for a change?" she raged at him. It was irrational to feel this strongly about his stupid comment; Midori knew this, attempted to calm herself even as she gave up on control as a lost cause. Words spewed from her mouth before her mind had a chance to filter them.

"Your precious _onee_-_sama_ can go to Hell, because I'm sick of hearing about what she does or doesn't want! This shit is her fault to begin with, why should she get a say in how it ends!"

And Midori moved.

A moment later Enishi was struck hard in the back of the head with one of his own _bokken_; he flew through the air to land hard on his side, the impact of his body with the floor strong enough to momentarily shake the walls.

Midori stood facing his crumpled form, breathing heavily as her enemy stumbled to his feet. She watched as Enishi raised a hand to rub at the back of his head; she watched as the stunned look on his face morphed slowly to anger. She stood tall and watched as Enishi threw his _bokken a_side and stomped towards her, coming so close to Midori that she could smell his sweat.

"Do not speak of my _onee_-_sama_, woman," he hissed, his hands fisting and unfisting at his sides.

She was getting sick of that order. She was already sick of being reduced to the title of 'woman.'

"I'll speak of her however I wish," she spat at Enishi, refusing to back down from him despite his current proximity. "That woman ruined _everything _by dying. You say you don't understand how I can love Himura after all he has done to me? How the hell can you still love Tomoe Yukishiro after she fell in love with your enemy and then got herself killed? How can _you_ forgive _her _betrayal, Yukishiro?"

It was the wrong thing to say.

Enishi's left hand shot up, grabbing Midori around the neck and closing with all the strength of an iron collar. In the next instant Midori found herself pressed hard into a wall, gagging as she tried to draw breath into her lungs around Enishi's crushing grip on her throat.

"How _dare _you," Enishi screamed in Midori's face, those strange chords of muscle popping out again as his own face went from white to purple in the blink of an eye. "_Onee_-_sama _was nothing like the Battousai! She _used_ him to get revenge for the murder of her fiance! That's all it was, you stupid bitch! _Onee_-_sama _was good and pure, and the Battousai is nothing but a pathetic murderer, not fit to kiss my onee-sama's feet! Do not _ever_ compare them again!"

"Someone's - in - denial," Midori gasped out, trying to work her fingers in between her neck and Enishi's hand before she passed out from lack of air. The far edges of her vision were already beginning to go black, a bad sign on the best of days.

Snarling rather spectacularly, his earlier good humor obviously gone, Enishi jerked Midori away from the wall and threw her from him as though she were nothing more than a used rag. Midori, sucking in hurried lung-fulls of air, opted to stay where she had landed this time, as the room was titled alarmingly around her.

"Shut up!" Enishi roared, seizing handfuls of his hair in his fists; he looked quite deranged at the moment, or at least he did when he wasn't trying to split into two or three extras. "Don't talk about things you don't understand! You know nothing, you bitch! _**NOTHING**_!"

Midori coughed, spitting blood onto the polished floorboards before flopping to rest on her back. The ceiling whirled weirdly above her; she closed her eyes before the sight could make her nauseous. Megumi would be having a fit at her for all this activity, Midori mused. Kenshin would have a stroke.

He would also die of shock when she opened her mouth to continue needling the already very pissed Enishi.

"Did you know that they were already a couple before they left Kyoto for that little village in the mountains? Yes, I always considered it pathetic that your dearly departed sister was weak enough to fall in love with someone she was suppose to hate. You must be so proud of her unflinching resolve."

Gods, she'd wanted to say that for _years_. Stupid, pathetic Tomoe Yukishiro fell in love with the man who killed her fiance, the man she ran away from home to kill, the man who spared her life when really he should have silenced her forever the first time they met after she saw him kill on assignment. How strong could the woman have really been, to allow herself to fall in love with her enemy?

There was silence for a long time in the dojo. Midori was exhausted, hurting, and far away inside her head; Enishi was probably just trying to control the urge to kill her for her slurs on his precious _onee_-_sama_. She could hear him breathing quite hard on the other end of the room; he had yet to move since throwing her.

Which was great, because Midori was a sitting duck if he decided to attack her; she was not in any condition to defend herself.

Being this weak sucked.

When Enishi finally did move, Midori immediately opened her eyes and turn her head to squint in his general direction. She would not be at all surprised to find that he was the kind of man to kick a woman when she was down, and even if she didn't currently have the strength to fight him, she would rather see the blow coming than to be taken unawares. Besides, being kicked in the ribs with those boots of his was going to hurt like a bitch; hopefully she would be able to dodge if he tried that.

She tried to flinch away from him when his hand clamped down on her upper arm - to no avail. Enishi jerked her to her feet, letting go of her suddenly and then grabbing her again when she nearly fell. This time, he did not release her arm; he merely began dragging her after him as he made to exit his dojo, the two _bokkens_ they had been using laying forgotten on the floor.

As soon as they were outside Midori dug her feet into the soil, trying to slow Enishi and get her arm away from him at the same time. Enishi scowled but said nothing, merely continued dragging her along behind him as he marched quickly back to his mansion. Midori did not go quietly.

"Unhand me immediately, you son-of-a-bitch, or I will start with your toes and end at your skull and break every fucking bone in your body!"

Enishi ignored her.

She had some fun with him on the stairs, managing once to trip him down half a flight with a well-placed kick to the back of his knee. She paid dearly for her insolence, however; upon picking himself up, Enishi grabbed Midori around the waist before she knew what he was about and tossed her none too gently over his shoulder. He then proceeded to climb the stairs, ignoring her screamed curses and the fists she pounded into his kidneys.

Fucker.

He tossed her down onto a bed at last; Midori immediately rolled off the other side of that bed and beat a hasty retreat to the furthest corner, glaring at Enishi in fury over his treatment of her. How dare this nutcase manhandler her like that? Who the hell did he think he was dealing with?

She was _so_ going to kill him if it was the last thing she did.

That thought, as well as her anger, promptly died a violent death when she glanced around the room he had brought her to and realized that it wasn't the one she'd slept in the night before. Holy shit, this was _Enishi's_ room. Panic flamed to life inside her brain, burning up her anger and raging out of control in seconds.

Enishi, who had stayed by the bed and was watching her closely, suddenly took a long stride towards her.

Midori bolted.

She knew even as she moved that she would never make it to the door, which Enishi had kicked shut behind him and which was closer to Enishi than it was to Midori. Instead she darted fast as thought out of the glass doors onto Enishi's spacious balcony, barely dodging the hand that shot out to grab her as she passed. Tripping over yet another pointless little rug just beyond the doorway, Midori was forced to yank her sleeve out of the fingers that had grasped it in those seconds of unsteadiness.

"Don't touch me, bastard!"

She whirled, bringing her leg up and around with every intention of kicking Enishi in that too-fucking-handsome face to let him know just exactly how little she enjoyed physical contact with him.

Sadly, Enishi managed to duck at just the right moment to avoid the blow.

_Why_ were the fates so against her all the time?

"You touch me and I'll kill you, Yukishiro," Midori snarled before making a diving leap over the railing of the balcony and into the branches of the trees beyond.

She needed to get away from the white-haired freak before he could get his hands on her again. She was never sparring with him again, never speaking to him again, and he could cook his own fucking meals from now on.

What Midori needed to do was find her _katana_, kill the son-of-a-bitch, and get off this godsdamned island.

* * *

In hindsight, Enishi supposes it was not the height of intelligence to bring the woman into his bedroom from the dojo.

Her freak-out and nose-dive into the trees off of the balcony had quickly clued him into that little fact.

But for _kami's_ sake, all he wanted to do was treat her ribs!

Enishi scowls, pacing back and forth around his room. He is pissed - how dare that stupid bitch say the things she had about his _onee_-_sama_? How dare the woman compare Enishi's _onee_-_sama _to that bastard the Battousai? How dare she accuse _onee_-_sama _of being weak in her resolve? The stupid woman knows nothing of Enishi's _onee_-_sama_; she has no right to speak of _onee_-_sama_ like that.

The back of his head throbs, as do his much-abused kidneys; that woman is a lot stronger than she looks, Enishi will give her that much. He's going to have fist-shaped bruises on his back by morning. He allows himself a smirk; she had obviously not enjoyed being thrown over his shoulder like that, but she had asked for it when she tripped him on the stairs. It is her own damn fault she didn't like the consequences.

The smirk fades as quickly as it bloomed into being. Speaking of consequences...

_Onee_-_sama _has been frowning softly at Enishi ever since Zetsumei Kurohyou's hasty exit from his presence.

Enishi tries yet again to reason with _onee_-_sama_.

"It wasn't my fault," he explains for the seventh time. "She slurred your memory, _onee_-_sama_, I couldn't just let her say those things. I was going to stop the spar when she started coughing blood; it's not my fault she went crazy on me! I gave her the chance to stop fighting, I warned her not to insult you, but the stupid woman won't listen to me! Battousai has her completely ruined in the ways a woman should act, _onee_-_sama_; she acts as though she were a man, someone who can speak to me as though I am beneath her instead of demurring to me as she should. It isn't my fault!"

But still _onee_-_sama_ frowns.

Stupid, stubborn woman and her annoying influence over _onee_-_sama_...

Enishi storms out of his room and goes to find the woman. His annoyance with her grows as he searches, unable to find her and wanting to strangle her for being so good at hiding. He's going to put a lock on the door to her room and make her stay in there, even if he has to bar the stupid windows.

_Why_ do women have to be so stubborn?

When Enishi finally scores the mansion from top to bottom and is still unable to find Zetsumei Kurohyou, he gives into the inevitability that she's not in the damn building and he will have to search the island for her. Enishi knows that the woman is not unintelligent, so he isn't worried about her getting herself eaten by a shark. He knows that she is around here somewhere, she's just being pigheaded.

He'll break her of that particular trait later.

He refuses to believe that the woman might possibly be hiding from him because she had gotten the wrong idea about his intentions earlier, what with being thrown onto Enishi's bed and all. Surely she doesn't really think that Enishi is the kind of man who would force himself on a woman? He's barely even gone near her the whole time she's been awake!

...Although perhaps the shock she must have felt upon waking in clothing other than her own had biased the woman against Enishi.

...Or the fact that he keeps grabbing her, although that isn't Enishi's fault. The woman is so damn stubborn and refuses to listen to him when he tells her what to do, even if it's for her own good. He doesn't tell her to try to run from him when he's speaking, and he thinks that the woman should have gotten the hint by now that he detests being ignored. He wouldn't _have_to grab her if she acted right, damnit.

Enishi has a thought about halfway down the last flight of stairs that has him freezing. Shit. Heishin's still here, and he gave the woman that look yesterday...

Enishi decides that if Heishin has put so much as a finger on the woman, Enishi really is going to kill him.

He's back upstairs and kicking Hieshin's door down in seconds. The puny China-man is sitting at a small circular table, surrounded by his thugs with a glass of wine in his hands. The woman is nowhere to be seen, but that does not ease Enishi's suspicions in the slightest. He's across the room and leaning over the table so that his face is inches from Heishin's in a blink, completely ignoring the thuggish quadruplets, as they are not a threat to him.

"Where is she?" Enishi immediately demands, hands closing white-knuckled around the edge of the circular table.

Heishin, who has frozen with his wine glass halfway to his mouth, sets the glass down and eyes Enishi in very convincing confusion. "Where is who, Boss?"

Enishi decides he's had enough of Heishin's games already; he lets his _onee_-_sama's_ gift pop out the nerves in his face, partly because he's well on his way to being angry enough to use that gift and partly because he knows _onee_-_sama's_gift scares the ever-living shit out of Heishin.

"Where is the woman, Heishin? Don't fuck with me. Tell me where she is _now_."

"I - I don't know where she is, Boss!" Heishin stutters, edging his chair back in a futile attempt to get away from Enishi. He flinches noticeably when the table edge shatters under Enishi's grip. "I have not seen your guest since yesterday. I do not have any idea where she is, I swear to you."

Well, shit. Where the hell is the stupid bitch, then?

Enishi promptly stomps back out of the room without another word to his pathetic second-in-command, slamming the door behind him. Giving up on his search as a lost cause, he goes back to his own room and plops down into his comfortable chair out on the balcony, tearing his glasses from his face and rubbing his eyes hard. Damn, this woman is going to run him into an early grave.

His gaze wanders instinctively to the beach in the distance, watching the waves pound the sand in the dimming sunlight; he has spent all afternoon looking for the stupid woman, and it is now twilight again. He lets his minds wander aimlessly as his eyes sweep the beach, not expecting to find anything of interest but not having anything else at which to stare, either. He ponders going to bed early tonight, just for something to do. Enishi isn't used to this sitting around and waiting business; all of his efforts for the past decade or so have revolved around Jinchu, and there had always been something to do, somewhere to go, someone to intimidate or kill or recruit.

Sitting here idle waiting for the Battousai to fucking die sucks.

Movement on the beach snaps his attention back to the stretch of sand. A faint dot is prowling along the water's edge, making weird movements every once in a while that puts Enishi in mind of someone throwing something. A ray of light from the water momentarily illuminates this little moving dot, and Enishi sighs in equal parts exasperation and relief - although there is no way in the seventh circle of Hell he would ever admit to the relief part.

Looks like he's found the damn woman.

When he gets down to the beach a short time later, he stays back in the palm trees watching as the woman storms up and down before him, occasionally snatching up a rock or a shell and hurling it out to sea. By squinting, Enishi can she that she is limping ever-so-slightly, and that her knuckles are bloody as though she has been pounding on something for a while. Her face appears dry, twisted purely by rage instead of sadness.

Enishi can feel himself grinning slightly. Oh, good, she is pissed. That makes what he wants to do so much more fun.

"Woman," he calls, stepping out of the trees and approaching her across the sand. She makes no response, either verbally or physically, and Enishi realizes with a start that she must have known he was watching her. Had she heard his approach, perhaps?

"What the hell are you doing out here, woman? Sulking?" She better have a damn good explanation for disappearing all afternoon.

Again, she gives no sign that she can hear him.

Has Enishi mentioned that he hates being ignored?

So naturally he strides up to the stupid woman and grabs her by the arm to make her look at him when he's talking to her. Does she have no manners at all?

Apparently not, as she promptly smacks his glasses off of his nose and proceeds to toss her handfull of sand in his eyes.

"Damn it!" Enishi bellows, unable to see and therefore helpless as the woman smashes him hard in the nose with what feels like her palm. He hears a dull crack just before the blood starts pouring, and figures that it is safe to say the bitch has just broken his nose.

Oh, he is _so_ going to make her pay for that.

Enishi manages to grab the woman as she continues pummeling him, throwing her down and then jumping so that he lay across her. His superior weight easily kept her pinned beneath him as he quickly blinked the last of the sand from his stinging eyes and then glared down at her, absolutely furious with her.

"What the hell is wrong with you, woman?" he shouts, grabbing her wrists and smashing them down to the sand as she tries to hit him yet again. "Stop or I'll break your fucking arms!"

Apparently the woman chooses to believe his threat; she stops moving and fixes him with a look that should be able to set Enishi afire.

Enishi, meanwhile is fighting the urge to really hurt this woman. She broke his fucking nose! Surely _onee_-_sama_ won't mind if Enishi breaks a few fingers or mabye bruises the woman somewhere? He closes his eyes for a second, seriously hoping that _onee_-_sama_ will smile on his intentions, and feeling a sense of near-crushing dissappointment when she merely frowns in disapproval. Damn it.

"Get off me."

Enishi's eyes open to glare anew at the woman beneath him, annoyed that she has interrupted his mental begging with onee-sama. "What did you say, woman?"

"Get. Off. Me."

Enishi scowls fiercely, puposely settling his weight so that he is pressed shoulder to knees with the woman. "I think you can just stay here, bitch."

"Get the fuck off of me, or suffer the consequences, bastard," the woman spits in return, shifting suddenly so that her bony hip plants itself in Enishi's gut. Enishi retaliates by yanking hard on her captive wrists, dragging her arms into uncomfortable positions.

"I thought I told you to stop moving, woman," he reminds her, intending to illustrate his dominance over her and make her follow his orders as a woman should. Really, are all of her feminine instincts dead?

The woman stares at Enishi for a long moment as though Enishi has lost his mind.

And then her head jerks upwards, and there comes close to his ear the snap of a jaw closing in an iron grip on the side of his neck.

Enishi bellows.

He tries to yank himself away from the woman, to no avail - the teeth in his neck do not budge in the slightest. Cursing at the top of his voice, his visoin scarlet with his anger, Enishi grabs the back of the woman's head and jerks her mouth off of him. As soon as he is free he releases her and hauls himself to his feet; he takes several steps back to put some neccessary distance between himself and the obviously insane woman currently mascarading as a guest on his island.

That bitch actually spits his own blood in Enishi's direction as she too gets to her feet.

"I _will not_ be manhandled, you fucking piece of trash," she spits at him, marching up to stand inches from him and glaring up into his face; a small, annoying part of Enishi's mind is impressed that she has willingly approached him like that. "I might be stuck on this damn island as your prisoner, but I will not be playing the part of whore, understand? Touch me and bleed, Yukishiro, and that's the last warning you're going to get."

"Are you completely without sense?" Enishi demands furiously, throwing his arms into the air in anger and exasperation; both rise exponentially when the idiot woman flinches slightly. "What is wrong with you, woman? I just wanted to bandage your fucking ribs earlier! I am not a fucking rapist, woman!"

Here he pauses to glare at her, leaning down slightly to put his face closer to her own.

"And if you ever strike me again, woman, I will rip your arm from your body and feed it to the sharks as you watch. Do I make myself clear?"

To his utter amazement, the woman begins laughing. Enishi pulls back again, eyeing her in wonder; what the hell is wrong with this strange woman? A moment ago she looked ready to attempt to tear Enishi's head off with her bare hands, and now she's laughing?

Clearly the woman is mentally unhinged.

"You think you can intimidate me?" she gasps out, one hand clutching at her bad ribs even as her deranged laughter continues; Enishi wonders vaguely whether or not being tossed over his shoulder earlier had hurt those ribs. "I, Zetsumei Kurohyou, who was partners with Makoto Shishio, who knows the weight of a madman's obsession, afraid of a pathetic _child_ like you? Don't be a fool, Yukishiro. Don't waste my time with your pathetic little threats."

Infuriating bitch of a woman.

Enishi glares down at her, bringing his hand to his face and forcing the cartilage of his nose to correctly realign. He storms over to where his glasses lay in the sand, snatching them up and putting them back on his nose in a huff. He turns back to the woman, glaring at her again as her laughter stops and her face takes on the same pissy expression she was wearing a few minutes ago when he first arrived at the beach.

"I'm hungry," he mutters darkly, and stomps past the woman towards the trees and the mansion beyond. He stops after only a few steps, however; the stupid woman is not following him. He shoots her a murderous glance over his shoulder.

She in turn gives him a very dirty look. "Cook your own damn meal, Yukishiro. I'm not your personal chef."

Enishi growls, insanely displeased with her statement. She isn't going to cook tonight? Why the hell not?

Well, to hell with her, then. Enishi will be damned before he begs this bitch to cook for him. What does he care, anyway? He can cook his own meals. He doesn't need her. He can take care of himself.

He doesn't need anybody.

* * *

_She is alone in a forest. It is snowing._

_She is cold._

_She trudges on, her feet numb to the wet coldness of the fallen snow. She is looking for someone. She cannot at the moment remember who, but she knows that she must follow the trail of footprints and find her someone before it is too late._

Woman.

_She can no longer feel her legs, can no longer feel the fingers wrapped so tightly around the hilt of the katana. She shuffles blindly through the falling snow; the flakes that stung her face with their temperature no longer register. She must find him. She must not stop until she finds him, until she stops him from ruining his life. She must find him._

Woman_._

_She breaks out of the trees, coming upon a small house with a frost-dead garden stretched out behind it. The house looks empty. Cautiously, she sidles up to the shoji in the front of the building and pushes it open, stepping into the home that is as cold and foreboding as the snowy forest she just left._

Woman!

_She sees him, the one she has searched for. He is bloodied, his blue gi slashed in several places on the back, the side of his head matted with blood. He is kneeling beside a still figure laying in a futon. A blood-covered katana rests forgotten on the floor beside him._

Wakeup_, _stupid woman!

_She_ _kneels beside him, tries to put her hand on his arm; her hand passes right through him as though one of them were a ghost. She thinks it might be her._

_She opens her mouth, calls the man's name, waves her hand in front of his face; the man does not react. One of his hands goes to the side of his face, covering the bleeding cross etched into this skin; the rest of his attention is fixed on the person in the futon. She looks down, thinking that she knows who it will be, filled with a small amount of pleasure at the thought of the Yukishiro woman's death when she used her ninjin like that…_

Godsdamnit_, _you stupid woman_, _wake up already!

_But it isn't the Yukishiro woman. It is her. She is laying there in the futon, her face deathly pale. She is dead. She is a ghost._

_Zetsumei Kurohyou screams._

Someone was shaking her. Someone was screaming.

Midori was screaming.

Midori's eyes snapped open as her mouth snapped shut, tensing in the iron hold of the man practically lying on her as he shook her like a rag doll. The moment she tensed he stopped shaking her, glaring down into her face from under disheveled hair. Black eyes met green, and Midori promptly panicked again.

"Get off me!" she demanded, attempting to smack Enishi Yukishiro in the face and missing by a long shot. He jerked away from her, retreating from her bed as she scrambled to get up and literally fell off the side of the mattress, her sheets wrapped in a cocoon around her body. She hit the floor with a grunt, wriggling around in annoyance as she tried to loosen the choke-hold the sheets had on her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Enishi was still in the room, watching her with a really weird expression on his face. He wore nothing but a pair of baggy sleeping trousers and a bandage around his neck where she had bitten him earlier; his customary dark glasses were gone.

Annoyed, embarrassed, and still freaked out from the content of her dream, Midori snarled fiercely at Enishi. "Get out. Leave me alone."

"I wasn't the one screaming at the top of my lungs in the middle of the night," Enishi retorted immediately, scowling at Midori as she tried futilely to extract herself from her sheets. "What the hell is your problem, woman? Why were you screaming?"

Midori refused to answer him, instead managing to shove the sheets down around her hip with the arm she had jerked free upon waking. Her other arm was now free, and with both hands she jerked the sheets off her legs and tossed them away from her in annoyance. She felt like a complete idiot all of a sudden. What, exactly, had she been screaming?

"Go away."

The sound of a door closing had Midori lifting her head hopefully, only for those hopes to be dashed when she saw that Enishi was now leaning against the closed door with his no-longer-bandaged arms crossed over his muscular chest. Fuck. Why wouldn't he just go away?

"I apologize for interrupting your precious sleep," she snapped, tone making it perfectly clear that she was not sorry in the least. "I don't plan to go back to sleep, so there will be no further interruptions. Go. Away."

"Why were you screaming?"

Patience gone, Midori shot to her feet, glaring at Enishi even as she blushed scarlet in embarrassment at standing before him in only a sleeping yukata.

"None of your damn business, Yukishiro," was her harshly voiced reply to his question. Turning her back on him, Midori stalked around the bed to stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. She straightened her spin and crossed her arms in front of her, glaring stubbornly out at the moonlit sea. Like hell she was going to talk to her kidnapper about her screwed-up nightmare. Kenshin, maybe; Yukishiro, no fucking way.

"It is my business when you wake me up screaming."

Logical son of a bitch.

Midori jerked the latch that held the windows closed and threw them open, hopping over the small lip of a window seal out onto the balcony that apparently wrapped around the top half of the house. She stalked to the balcony railing, gripping the rail in her hands until her knuckles turned white and taking in deep breathes of the salty air. Part of her brain registered Yukishiro's presence at her back, but she ignored him. She was not going to cave and spill her guts to this freak just because he annoyed the shit out of her.

"I'll assume that you were having a nightmare," he mused, his voice _gentle_ of all things as he moved to stand beside her; Midori edged slightly away from him as he too leaned against the balustrade. "What were you dreaming about that would make you scream like that, woman? Remembering how you got those scars on your back?"

Midori flinched, her hands flexing around the rail. "What do you care? I am awake now; you can go back to sleep without fear of more screaming."

Enishi regarded her as she stubbornly stared forward; out of her peripheral vision, she could make out the look of pity on his face. "I have nightmares, too, woman."

Midori snarled, gripping the railing so tightly she could feel tiny splinters trying to dig into her skin. "Good for you, Yukishiro. Go have some now and leave me the _fuck_ alone."

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a long moment, Midori's eyes fixed on the sea and Enishi's fixed on the side of her head. Finally Enishi pushed away from the edge of the balcony, heading back for the open windows behind them. Midori breathed a sigh of relief, only to choke on air when his voice shattered the silence.

"Come inside woman."

Midori ignored him.

"Don't think that I will hesitate to toss you back over my shoulder, Zetsumei Kurohyou. Either walk back inside or get carted, it's your choice."

Jackass.

Midori breezed past Enishi were he lingered in the windows, ignoring the infuriating smirk he once more had plastered over his face. She went immediately to the wall across from the bed, leaning her back against that wall and watching Enishi as he pulled the windows closed again and threw the latch. He turned and saw her trying to press herself into the wall, and that pitying look came over his face again.

"Come with me," he requested in a soft voice, stepping towards her and actually holding out a hand as though expecting her to take it. "I'll make you some tea or something."

Midori stared mutely at him, wondering if he were serious, wondering just how stupidly crazy her host and captor really was.

She shook her head and edge slightly further along the wall towards the door.

She could tell even in the faint moonlight bathing the room that there was now a muscle twitching in his jaw. He took a long step forwards, his hand still outstretched. Midori tensed, ready to bolt through the damn door if she had to in order to get away from him. The vision of her own face on his sister's dead body kept flashing through her head, and she really didn't want to deal with him right now.

Drained, sick of fighting with him, Midori allowed herself to sink to the floor, hugging her legs to her chest and burying her face in her knees like a child.

"Please just go away," she whispered. "Please."

Nothing happened for a long, tense moment.

And then footsteps moved past her, and the door opened and shut softly, and Enishi was gone.

* * *

A/N: Please review.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

"_Kabu! Wake up, kabu!"_

_Midori jerks to consciousness only to find herself pinned on her stomach on the floor, the blankets from her futon tossed in all directions around her position and a nearly frantic voice speaking low in her ear. It takes her a moment to realize that the voice is Kenshin's. It takes another several moments before any of the words he is saying start to register._

"…_safe, I have you, everything is alright. You're safe, kabu, safe at Kaoru-dono's dojo in Tokyo. It was only a dream, it wasn't real, and everything is alright now…"_

_Midori forces her body to go limp; she knows from experience that Kenshin will keep her pinned like this until he deems her calm enough to let go of. Sometimes it only takes a few minutes from the moment she wakes from her nightmares. Other times it takes all night to calm Midori down._

_It all depends on which nightmares she is having on any given night._

_Kenshin carefully pulls Midori up from the floor until she is sitting next to him. He releases her after a moment, letting his hands fall to his lap as he studies her in profile. Midori knows that he is trying to gauge her level of awareness, her level of connection with reality. Sometimes it takes her a while upon waking to distinguish between lingering nightmares and the real world. On those nights, Kenshin will not touch her until she gives him some signal that she is in control of herself again._

_Apparently Midori has quite the left hook when frightened and half-asleep._

_Tonight, however, Midori immediately moves to press herself into his arms, shivering slightly in spite of the hot summer-night air coming in through the partially open shoji. Kenshin's strong arms wrap tightly around her as Midori buries her face into his bare chest through the opening of his sleeping yukata, clutching him around the waist as though afraid he might suddenly disappear._

_She __**is**__ afraid that he might suddenly disappear._

_Kenshin doesn't complain about her tight grip. He shifts until she is cradled in his lap, his left hand stroking up and down the back of her own sleeping yukata as he waits for her to say or do something that will tell him what is wrong. He never pushes her, never tries to pry the information out of her if she doesn't speak fast enough to please him or doesn't speak at all. He just sits with her until she asks him to leave or tells him what's wrong or until morning comes, whichever scenario might occur._

"_The others…"_

"_Still sleeping. You weren't crying out, just thrashing around. Don't worry."_

_She always asks about their housemates before anything else. When she first came to live here permanently, Midori's nightmares had woken her new friends and brought them running to her room to help. For Midori, so accustomed to being seen as strong and independent, that had been a major blow to her pride. It had taken Kenshin weeks to convince her that their friends did not think any less of her because of her nightmares._

_She still has her doubts, even after four months._

"_Gomen."_

_That is the second thing she says, every night that she snaps out of her hellish nightmares to find that she has woken Kenshin from his sleep yet again. She hates herself for her own weakness, for her inability to just stop having these stupid dreams altogether. She feels like she is hurting Kenshin every time she disturbs his rest, and she hates herself for it._

_Kenshin never says a single word in complaint, but all that does is make Midori feel even more guilty._

_They sit together for a long time in silence. Midori does not loosen her hold on Kenshin's waist and Kenshin doesn't say anything about it. Midori fights to end her involuntary shivers and Kenshin rubs a hand soothingly up and down her back. Midori tries to decide what to say and Kenshin waits to see if she will say anything at all._

"_It was just a flashback," Midori finally blurts out, voice muffled against Kenshin's warm chest. "From the war. Those two weeks in that hotel, and those men that first night when they told me what they were going to do to me, and just…snippets. Of later. It was just a flashback."_

_She thinks she might be repeating that more for her own sake than Kenshin's, more to assure herself of that fact than to assure Kenshin. Sometimes it's hard to tell who she is trying to pacify with her explanation._

_Kenshin's arms tighten around her._

"_They're gone now," he whispers softly, his voice exceedingly gentle. "They are dead; they will never touch you again."_

_The same words he says each time she has those kinds of flashback-nightmares, spoken in the same tone. The two of them have their own little script for the tragedy that is Midori's night life. If Midori allows herself to dwell on it, that fact is quite depressing._

_It takes a long time for Midori to stop trembling, a long time before she is able to loosen her death grip around Kenshin's waist. Even then she does not let go of him entirely. She snuggles even closer to his warm body, nuzzling his chest and trying to convey without words how grateful she is for his presence._

_Kenshin in turn presses a long kiss to her hair, and Midori knows that he is saying without words that he is glad to be here, glad to help her and hold her and have her in his life after all these years apart. He is saying without words that he will continue to be here, when she needs him and when she doesn't, and that he will never leave her. He is silently saying, "I love you, my kabu."_

_Midori silently returns the sentiment._

* * *

His kabu was dead.

She was dead.

His kabu.

Dead.

* * *

The woman is acting strange, and Enishi is growing annoyed.

It has been over a week since Jinchu. The woman seems to have recovered sufficiently both from her fever and from their little sparring match. Her knee appears to give her no trouble and he has not seen her coughing blood again lately.

Actually, he has not seen her much at all lately, and her avoidance of Enishi is starting to bug the hell out of the white-haired young man.

He sits at a desk in one of the many rooms in his mansion, papers scattered over the surface before him. He has been trying to go over the figures for his organization's profits for the last few months for several hours now to no avail. His mind is leaping all over the place, snapping from the woman to that bastard Heishin to the woman to his business, hardly settling on one before jumping to another. It is frustrating and annoying and he really needs a drink.

Giving up on the paperwork for now, Enishi rises from the chair behind the desk and stride to the door. He opens it, steps out, closes the door behind him, and immediately locks it with one of the keys he carries on a thick iron ring in his pocket at all times. He is not about to let Heishin have an opportunity to dig through his paperwork, and there is no sense in putting such a temptation in the woman's path either. His office of sorts is one room that he keeps locked all the time.

Keys back in his pocket, Enishi starts for the kitchens, his mind already on a new subject as his body moves.

Heishin. The man is becoming a serious nuisance; one that Enishi itches to rid himself of. His second-in-command has been a frequent guest at Enishi's mansion ever since his initial arrival a week ago, and his constant inquiries as to when Enishi will sign over control of his organization are beginning to wear on Enishi's already non-existent patience. Seeing the runty Chinese man slinking around this mansion with his hulking escort is getting old quickly. The only thing Enishi doesn't have to worry about is Heishin's conduct towards the woman, as she has been circumventing the pipsqueak even more vigilantly than she has avoided Enishi.

Enishi scowls as he reaches the doors to the kitchens on the ground floor, pushing them open roughly as his thoughts turn to the woman. Considering they are on a deserted island and there are only so many places that she could go, Zetsumei Kurohyou has proven herself a master of remaining hidden unless she wants to be found. Since that night she woke him up screaming in her sleep, Enishi has only seen the woman a grand total of three times. Each time has been from a distance down a hallway, and each time the woman has immediately vanished. He has no idea why the daft woman has decided to shun him so completely; had he angered her that much when he had woken her from her nightmare? That had been interesting, to say the least; what was it that the woman had such terrifying nightmares about?

She had not been in the mood to divulge that information. Actually, Enishi had been somewhat surprised when she did not flat-out attack him to get him to leave. It wouldn't have worked, of course, but the fact that someone like her didn't even attempt to fight had been strange. It had been stranger still when she had dropped her guard so completely around him as she had sunk to the floor, burying her face in her bent knees and quietly begging him to leave.

Enishi frowns at the memory. Begging had sounded so..._wrong_ in her voice. The woman should not have to _beg_.

Maybe that is part of the problem. Maybe the woman is embarrassed by the fact that she literally begged Enishi to go away. Maybe she is avoiding him because her embarrassment is too great for her to bear when in his presence.

Upon seeing the figure slumped morosely at the table in the kitchen before him, Enishi decides that for now he will make do with his speculations. His unwilling guest is obviously not up to an interrogation. Or any kind of stress, for that matter.

Actually, Zetsumei Kurohyou looks like shit.

The woman is slouched so far over her knees that Enishi is faintly amazed she hasn't toppled over yet. The skin of her face appears almost grey, and there are large, unflattering black bags under her dull emerald eyes. Her hair is pulled back into her customary high tail, but the job is done so sloppily that long wisps of hair fall free over her ears to her waist when they should be caught up with the rest of it. Her clothes – a _gi_ and _hakama_ set in deep blue that she must have found somewhere in the mansion – are wrinkled but apparently clean, as they do not smell of having been used; they hang off of her frame like a circus tent from a twig. A steaming mug of tea sits cooling on the table in front of her.

Enishi absolutely refuses to close his eyes. He just knows he's going to see _onee_-_sama_ standing there with a look of utmost horror on her beautiful face, and he really doesn't want to. Instead he stands there and stares unabashedly at the woman – or possibly corpse – sitting at his small kitchen table. After a moment, the listless green eyes spark to life, and the woman turns her head to look at him.

"What do you want, Yukishiro?" Her voice is unlike anything Enishi has ever heard; like a dead body opening its mouth and speaking.

Enishi does not reply, and after a moment of mutual staring the woman returns her attention to her mug of tea. She straightens slowly, finally sitting with her back ramrod straight as she picks up the mug and gently blows on the surface. Enishi is surprised to notice, as the woman brings the mug to her mouth to drink, that her hands are shaking slightly.

Perhaps the woman has not recovered, as Enishi has assumed?

Enishi resists the urge to shake his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. The woman is obviously not in the mood to chat, and he only came down here to get his drink. If she wants to make herself sick – or whatever it is she has done to herself – that is not his business. Enishi determinedly turns his face away from the woman, closing the kitchen door behind him before walking up to a cabinet on the left side of his kitchen and opening it to display a rather impressive liquor collection. He takes out a bottle of quality American whiskey, the tiny glass used for drinking such a beverage upside down over the neck of the bottle, and closes the cabinet doors again before turning around and seeing that the woman is watching his every move over the rim of her tea.

He refuses to let those creepy green eyes bother him, and stares stubbornly back at her over his dark glasses. Her gaze wanders down to rest on the whiskey bottle, some unknown emotion flashing briefly through her eyes before disappearing. She glances once back at his face before dismissing him entirely, going back to her tea and her silence.

For some unimaginably stupid reason hidden even from himself, Enishi feels slighted. Pride demands that he force her to acknowledge him. So, instead of returning to his office or retreating to his balcony, Enishi pulls out a chair opposite to the woman and sits, putting the whiskey bottle down on the table between them with an audible _clank_.

The woman refuses to look up, and Enishi really hates being ignored.

"Should I be prepared to dispose of your lifeless body, or do you think you can wait to die until I return you to Japan?" he snarks at her, removing the tiny glass from over the top of the bottle and uncorking it. He fills the glass to the brim before setting the bottle down, picking up the glass, and smoothly knocking back the whiskey. It burns a trail down the back of his throat as he swallows. He completely expects the woman to either ignore him or leave, so he is caught slightly off guard when she speaks as he is pouring himself a refill.

"That depends on how long you plan to keep me here," is her reply, given in that lifeless voice; the sound of it makes the hairs on the back of Enishi's neck stand on end. The woman takes a sip of her tea, her hands still trembling faintly. Enishi studies her for a long moment, taking in her grayish skin and the bags under her eyes for the second time before downing his shot refill and getting to his feet.

When he sets the second shot glass down in front of the woman, she peers up at him through her long black bangs, suspicion evident in her gaze. Knowing the gesture will irritate her, Enishi very deliberately rolls his eyes at her as he stalks back to his chair and throws himself down. He picks up the bottle of whiskey and shakes it at the woman.

"How well can you hold your liquor?" he asks her bluntly, uncorking the bottle and filling first his shot glass, then hers. "You look like death walking; perhaps a drink will help."

The woman sets aside her half-empty cup of tea, eyeing the shot glass with a strange expression on her wane face; she looks torn between the deepest weariness and the faintest hope, although what she could possibly be hoping for eludes Enishi entirely. Slowly, her small hand shaking for reasons unspecified, the woman reaches out and picks up the tiny glass, bringing it under her nose. She inhales, her face twisting into a grimace as she glances up at Enishi.

"What is this?" Enishi forces down the shiver that wants to crawl up his spine; what the hell is wrong with her voice, that it sounds so _dead_ today?

"Whiskey," is his curt reply, and he snatches up his own shot and throws it back, relishing the burn as the alcohol slides hotly down his throat. The woman is still giving her own drink that weird look; Enishi opens his mouth to tell her to either drink it or give it to him, but he never gets the words out. The woman puts the glass to her lips and drains the whiskey, her face going bland as she sets the shot glass back on the table.

Enishi refills it for her without a word.

"When are you going to let me leave?" she asks him softly; that voice crawls sickeningly over his skin as she stares at the top of the table. Her hands have moved to cross almost protectively over her chest, as though to shield herself from Enishi's scrutiny. Her eyes are so damn dull; he has not seen any light in them since watching her fight with Gein, and it disturbs him.

Not that he will be telling her that.

Those eyes are staring at him now, one brow raised in question. Enishi ignores her, downing his shot and rising from the table. He grabs the bottle of whiskey as he walks away from both the table and the fucking creepy woman sitting at it.

A hand fists in the back of his pant leg, pulling him to a stop. Curious, Enishi glances over his shoulder to once more lock gazes with the woman. Her eyes have narrowed; they sparkle at him with blatant annoyance at being ignored.

"I'm tired of being here. I'm sick of your company and I'm sick of being pestered by that disgusting pipsqueak upstairs. I want to know when you are going to allow me to return to Tokyo. Are you planning to keep me here until Himura dies of old age? Until your sister's ghost tells you to send me back? What? What will it take for you to let me leave?"

And there's that begging note in her creepy voice, not nearly as prominent as it had been the first time but still noticeable.

Wait a moment. What did she just say about a 'pipsqueak upstairs'? Turning around and effectively dislodging her hold upon his trouser leg, Enishi settles a cold look upon the woman at his table.

"What do you mean, Heishin has been bothering you?" he asks in a frosty voice. He already has several strategies in place should the woman refuse to answer him; he wants that answer, and he's going to get it one way or the other. However, his strategies prove unnecessary; the woman immediately shrugs and begins explaining, picking up her refilled shot glass from the table.

"He follows me, along with those clones of his. He whispers foul things to me. He annoys me and disgusts me. Would it be too much to ask for you to make him stay the hell away from me, since it's clear you will not allow me to leave yet and I assume you would be upset should I injure him? I grow very tired of his constant presence, like right now as he hides outside the kitchen door."

Enishi is at the door and wrenching it open in seconds; he is _pissed_. Sure enough, Heishin and his thugs are beating a hasty retreat up the stairs, and Enishi feels his temper swell further. That fucker. Enishi has told Heishin to stay the fuck away from the woman. How dare he disregard Enishi's orders?

The woman's voice floats to him over the pounding fury in his ears.

"Incidentally, are you aware that someone has sprinkled poison on the vegetables in your little pantry? It makes it somewhat difficult for me to eat when a large portion of the food in this house is fatally seasoned. If you were aware, it would have been nice to know about it before I ate one of the carrots in there and ingested the stuff. I dislike being this ill."

Son of a - !

The click of glass against wood has Enishi turning back to the woman as she stands from his table, having downed her whiskey for the second time. She breezes out of the kitchen without another word, leaving Enishi staring after her; clutching the bottle of whiskey in his hand and wishing more than anything that it was Heishin's neck. Had the bastard poisoned Enishi's food? Had he poisoned the woman?

He realizes with a jolt that the woman has now opened the front door and is about to disappear outside. She is walking oddly, almost drunkenly; her legs wobble from side to side and she seems to be having trouble picking up her feet. Shit, is it the poison? And where the hell is she going? In his haste to stop her, he finds himself shouting to her back.

"Woman! Where the hell are you going?"

She tenses, freezing with one foot out the door. Enishi is striding across the room towards her almost before he knows what he is doing, but he is aware enough not to try to grab her. That would likely just piss her off.

"I was going to go for a walk," the woman mutters, not bothering to turn and face him. "I want to get away from your rat for awhile. Is that acceptable, gokuri-san?"

Enishi scowls at her back, not amused by the nickname. Jailer, indeed. "If you've been poisoned, woman, then come upstairs. I have medicine in my…study."

He was going to say 'in my room', but now that he remembers her reaction to being alone with him in his bedroom he thinks it will be safer just to take her to his study. He has medicine in both places; surely he has something that can help her. After all, _onee_-_sama_ will doubtlessly be very unhappy if the woman dies.

Slowly, being extra careful to appear unthreatening, Enishi reaches out and grasps one of the woman's arms just above the elbow. The woman is eyeing him now, turning towards him and glancing from his gentle grip on her arm to his face with a giant question mark practically floating over her head. If she didn't look so shitty at the moment her expression would be hilarious.

"Come with me," he tells her, and for some unimaginable reason Enishi realizes that he is very nearly whispering. What is wrong with him?

The woman regards him in silence for a long moment. At last, she nods her head.

"I will follow," she says, the dead quality gone from her voice; now she merely sounds weary to her soul. She tugs lightly on her captive arm and Enishi immediately lets her go, turning away and heading for the stairs to hide his confusion. He barely remembers to put the whiskey down on a small table near the foot of the stairs; his mind is busy contemplating his previous actions. Why does he feel so worried for this woman? Surely if she hasn't died from the poisoned carrot she had eaten by now then the poison isn't going to kill her? And what in the seven hells had made him speak so softly to her? Enishi is not a soft person; any gentleness he may have once possessed had died with his _onee_-_sama_.

He marches down the hall towards his office with the woman trailing silently at his heels. They have passed the door to Heishin's room before Enishi stops abruptly, causing the woman to nearly collide with his back. Heishin. That fucker. Enishi decides that while he is here – and already in a horrible temper towards his second-in-command – he will have a little talk with Heishin. And he wants the woman to watch.

Walking around her back to Heishin's door, Enishi wastes no time in kicking it open. Once again Heishin is sitting at his little table with a glass of wine, surrounded by his bodyguards. He jerks rather violently as his door is kicked off its hinges and bangs into the floor, wine spilling over the sides of his glass from the abrupt movement.

"B-Boss," he stutters stupidly, and then he gets a good look at Enishi's face and turns white.

Enishi breezes right past the two men between himself and Heishin; they are smart enough not to interfere. The woman chooses to remain at the door. Enishi reaches out and grips the already mangled edges of Heishin's fancy table, leaning his weight on them as he puts his face inches from Heishin's.

"Have you recently suffered from amnesia, Heishin?" he questions, his voice soft but deadly as he stares at the sweating runt before him.

"I – I don't –"

The table begins to crack under Enishi's hands.

"I told you to stay away from the woman. I told you that she is under my protection. So would you like to explain to me why it is that you have been _following_ her? And while you're at it, could you explain to me why it is that the vegetables from the last shipment are coated in _poison_, when _you_ are the one that oversees the unloading of goods from the supply ship?"

Heishin's mouth opens and closes, opens and closes; apparently he is currently speechless. Enishi continues his quiet, deadly rant.

"You disobeyed my orders and allowed the woman – who is under my protection – to become ill when you failed to notice that the food she would have to eat was poisoned. Would you like to give me a reason to allow you to continue living?"

A muffled sound of flesh on flesh from behind has Enishi's head turning, and what he sees causes red to tint his vision.

One of Heishin's thugs has grabbed the woman by the collar of her _gi_.

"Let go of her or I will kill you," Enishi hisses, turning fully to face the woman and her captor. A tiny portion of his brain that isn't currently drowning in fury notes that the woman isn't panicking like he expects her to; she is standing there with a completely disinterested look on her face, her small hands hanging limply at her side.

"You should not threaten Boss," the behemoth mutters, his enormous hand tightening its grip on the woman's _gi_.

Before Enishi can repeat his demand – or kill the freak, both options are equally appealing – the woman moves. Enishi misses it for the most part, his attention on the quadruplet holding his hostage and not on the hostage herself; but he does see her feet touch the floor again in the hallway, a large chunk of the _gi_ she wears still gripped in her previous captor's hand. Her own hand is clutching what remains of the front of her _gi_, trying vainly to cover her bandage-wrapped chest.

The woman spits out a word that is very inappropriate coming from the mouth of a female before darting down the hall and out of sight.

Enishi turns his head to glare furiously at Heishin. He knows that his _onee_-_sama's_ gift is popping the nerves out on his face, but at the moment he doesn't care.

How dare Heishin bother the woman against Enishi's orders? How dare Heishin be so lax in his duties that he allows the woman to be poisoned, and allows Enishi to run the risk of being poisoned? How dare Heishin let his thugs lay a hand on the woman, _when she is under Enishi's protection and therefore off limit?_

He stomps back over to the table, reaches across it and jerks Heishin towards him by the collar of his tunic.

"One more time," Enishi hisses, giving his second-in-command a shake. "One more word spoken to her, one more finger touching her, one more stalking expedition around my mansion, and _I will kill you. Slowly."_

And with that he thrusts the pathetic man away from him, turns on his heel and exits the room, off to track down the damn woman and give her some kind of medicine before she decides to croak from the poison she has ingested. A headache pounds at the back of his skull. He is hungry, but now cannot eat because there is no way of knowing what else is poisoned.

He should have just stayed with the damn paper work.

* * *

_Someone cries._

_He stands beside his onee-sama. Her hand cradles his cheek as she smiles at him._

_Someone cries._

_His onee-sama lowers her hand from his face, taking his hand and leading him forward. She turns her head to look over her shoulder and smiles at him, a happy smile that makes his insides sing with joy. He has waited years to see such happiness on her lovely face again. He is elated._

_But someone else is crying, and his onee-sama pulls him towards the sound._

_It's her. It's the woman. She is once more dressed in the robe he put her in while she was ill, and she is sobbing miserably, huddled in a ball on the ground. Twin trails of tears streak down her pale cheeks. As he watches, she puts her hands in her hair and wails._

_"Enishi – Enishi – Enishi –"_

_The woman is sobbing his name._

_Baffled, he turns to give his onee-sama a questioning look, only to feel as though his heart has plummeted to his toes. Onee-sama has stopped smiling. There are tears in her beautiful eyes, and she reaches out a hesitant hand to place her fingers on top of the sobbing woman's head._

_"She needs you, Enishi-kun," onee-sama whispers gently, her eyes going from the devastated woman at her feet to him. "Help her. She needs you as you need her."_

_The woman screams._

* * *

In the moonlight room of the mansion perched atop a tiny island, Enishi Yukishiro releases a shout, rolling over the side of his bed and landing hard on the floor. His mind doesn't even register the discomfort; he is on his feet and through the door in seconds. He doesn't have time to feel pain.

His _onee_-_sama_ has said that the woman needs him. _Onee_-_sama_ wants him to help the woman.

He _must_ help the woman.

* * *

In the room allotted for her use, Midori sat on the floor across from the doorway, her back pressed against the floor-length windows and her throbbing head cradled in her hands.

She was so – damn – _tired_.

It had been days since she had last slept for more than a scant hour or two. _Days_. Every time Midori closed her eyes the image of Kenshin kneeling beside her corpse would force itself upon her. Every time she would jerk back to awareness, covered in sweat and shaking like a leaf. It was driving her mad, and she desperately needed uninterrupted sleep.

She also desperately wanted to murder Heishin, preferably in the most painful way possible. The rat would not leave her alone. He seemed to pop up wherever Midori happened to be, his four identical bodyguards in tow, foul suggestions shining in his eyes even as they spewed from his tongue. It made her shudder in disgust just remembering his words. She wished he were as easy to avoid as Enishi, but where Enishi did not pursue her when she blatantly fled from him, Heishin seemed to delight in their perverse little game of hide and seek.

Perhaps after today – and the scare Enishi had instilled into his second-in-command – the rat would leave her be. Between horrifying lack of sleep and the fact that she just _had_ to eat a carrot coated in some sort of poison, Midori really didn't need more problems in her life at the moment. It was bad enough without an annoying stalker, in her opinion.

Midori raised her head and glared at the door, a muscle twitching in her jaw. Speaking of annoying stalkers…

"I know you are standing there, Yukishiro," she snapped. "What do you want?"

Immediately the door swung open, as though he had been standing there for the past ten minutes just waiting for her to invite him in. He was…frowning. Not scowling, per say, but most definitely unhappy about something. He wore only baggy sleeping trousers; his white hair was tousled as though he had just rolled out of bed.

It was almost cute.

Almost.

"What do you want?" Midori repeated crossly, closing her eyes and letting her still-pounding head fall back to rest against the windows behind her. Her ears picked up the sound of the door closing again, the inhale and exhale of breath from her unwanted guest. He didn't answer her, and she did not repeat the inquiry. She lacked the strength, or the focus.

Gods, how she wanted to sleep.

"How are you feeling?" Enishi's voice cut through the air like a blade, his question smashing against Midori's eardrums despite the quiet tone in which it had been uttered.

It had baffled her earlier, his violently pissed off reaction to her poisoning. What did he care if his second-in-command managed to kill her? Wasn't that what Enishi was going for anyway? Keeping Midori stuck on this island until she wasted away? She didn't reply to his question, not even opening her eyes to acknowledge him; she simply sat and breathed and tried not to cry. She had already debased herself in front of him by begging, no way was she going to cry in front of her captor.

"Why aren't you asleep?"

Midori let her face twist into a scowl as a response. She didn't want to talk to him. She wanted to talk to Kenshin. If she couldn't have Kenshin, then she wanted to be alone.

The floorboards creaked slightly as Enishi crossed the room towards her; involuntarily, Midori tensed at the feel of his warm body standing much too close in front of her. One green eye cracked open to glare at the offending body, who watched her back with faint bemusement. He crouched, putting his head level with her own.

"Are you still having nightmares?" he asked, and his voice was so soft and gentle Midori had to grip her knees to keep from reaching out to strangle him. How dare he be so gentle with her? Who the hell did he think he was, to speak to her like they were close friends who had a right to worry about one another? Again, she refused to answer, turning her head to the side in what should have been a very clear dismissal.

"I dreamt of you."

_That_ had her head swinging back to him, her eyes widening slightly in shock. "What?"

Enishi smiled slightly – an actual smile, not a sneer or a smirk but a real smile. "I dreamt of you. Tonight. That's why I'm here, woman."

Midori stared at him, completely unnerved. She was really quite unsure as to whether she even wanted to know what it was he had dreamed. Why the hell would Enishi be dreaming of her, anyway?

"You were crying. You were alone, and you were crying."

Apparently Enishi was going to fill her in on the specifics with or without her consent. He was watching her closely, his hands hanging loosely between his thighs and his body completely relaxed. Clearly he didn't see her as a threat at the moment, and his casual disregard for her worth as a fighter annoyed the hell out of Midori.

"You were saying my name," he whispered softly, wrinkles creasing his forehead as he frowned. "You wept, and repeated my name until my _onee_-_sama_ comforted you. She…she said that you needed me."

Midori snorted. Obviously the ghost of Tomoe Yukishiro was as insane as her living brother. Midori did not _need_ Enishi.

"What are your nightmares about, woman?"

Another snort, accompanied by the cynical narrowing of her eyes. "And why, pray tell, would I give you the answer to that question?"

Enishi didn't answer, and Midori decided she had had quite enough of this conversation. She began to move so that she could rise to her feet. Sleep was going to elude her again; maybe she could while away the hours until dawn on the beach, letting the soothing ebb and flow of the tide calm her frazzled mind.

A hand closed firmly but gently around her wrist, and Midori froze.

"Don't run from me, woman."

He was touching her. Again. Just like earlier by the front door, when he had grabbed her arm in his hand. His warm, calloused, rough hands that held frightening amounts of power. One of those hands was touching her. Again.

She tried to pull away, feeling the same sense of impending danger that had nearly overwhelmed her this afternoon; only this time Enishi did not immediately let go. His firm grip did not so much as budge. Midori yanked on her arm, anger rising along with unease, and Enishi stood as she did and held on.

"Let go of me," she warned in a tight voice, already feeling muscles all over her body tense for a fight. He should not be touching her. _He_ should _not_ be touching her.

She wished for the thousandth time that she still had her _katana_. She realized with a jolt that she was pressing herself hard against the windows, trembling like a coward and unable to pull her arm free. She gave it another yank; Enishi's hand stayed where it was.

"Let go," she repeated.

Enishi was giving her a very odd look. "Why won't you talk to me?"

"Are you completely out of your senses?"

Midori had not meant to yell that; she flinched at the sound of her own voice. The odd look vanished from Enishi's visage, replaced by his usual scowl. He jerked her forwards with his hold on her arm. Midori struggled against his hold, throwing her free hand towards his face in an effort to strike him. Enishi in turn used his free hand to grab her fist, stopping it before it connected with his cheek bone.

"Don't." His voice was low, cold, and exceptionally dangerous.

"Let go of me!" Midori snarled, angry and afraid and weary down to the bone. "Let go! I have nothing to say to you, Yukishiro! My dreams and nightmares are mine to deal with, of no concern to you. I don't give a shit what your sister's ghost said to you, I do _not_ need you! I don't need anyone!"

"Not even _him_?" Enishi was whispering, his cold voice prickling over her skin even as she thrashed about in his hold. "You don't even need _Battousai_?"

Midori stilled, head lowered so that she did not have to meet his gaze. The image of Kenshin as she had last seen him, lying in a pool of his own blood, was warring with the nightmare of seeing him kneeling beside her own dead body with that horrible look on his face. She did need him. Gods, how she needed him. She ached for him, for his touch, his voice, his smell. His absence was rending a hole in her heart, and she felt like she was drowning under the pain.

A droplet of water fell onto Enishi's finger, wrapped as it was around the fist she had drawn back towards her chest. It was soon joined by more, and Enishi ripped his hands away from her as though burned. Midori crumpled, kneeling on the floor and pressing her forehead against the cold wooden floorboards as her control dissolved and she wept.

She wanted to go home. She wanted to see Sanosuke again, to hear his loud and obnoxious laughter and get drunk with him and laugh at his hangover the next morning. She wanted to beat Yahiko up and down the length of the Kamiya dojo and watch with pride as his skills steadily improved, all while teasing him mercilessly. She wanted to wake up to the smell of Kaoru burning the kitchen and watch her train Yahiko in her absurd style as they insulted each other like siblings.

She wanted Kenshin. _Kenshin_.

Enishi was watching her as though she had lost her mind, but Midori had sunk too deeply into her sorrow to care. Sobbing, she struggled to her feet, going to the windows and flinging them open. In a second she had cleared the railing of the balcony, swinging down to the ground below and running as fast as her tired body would carry her into the darkness of the woods.

One anguished scream shattered the stillness of the night, its pain echoing from one end of the island to the other for a long moment before silence was restored.

Silence, but not peace.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

_Zetsumei Kurohyou sits at the table in the inn where meals are served, surrounded by her allies, and tries very hard not to show how uneasy she feels. She wishes desperately for her daisho, but Himura has forced her to leave her weapons in his room. She is aware that she is shaking, and under normal circumstances this would embarrass and infuriate her._

_But right now she is so afraid that she can't think. All she can do is clutch Himura's gi in her white-knuckled grip and keep her eyes on the table. Himura is sitting so close to her they are practically in each other's laps, and still she moves closer to him. He can__**not**__ leave her. She can't face these men alone today. She doesn't even want to be here. Why has Katsura-sama decided to punish her like this? Is he angry with her for killing those…those bastards? Is that why he has ordered her presence tonight?_

_Himura has assured her repeatedly that this is not the case, but still she has her doubts._

"_It's going to be alright," Himura whispers to her now, his hand covering the fingers she has bunched up in his gi and stroking them gently. "No one will bother you, kabu; I will not let them."_

"_Don't leave me here alone," she blurts out in a hoarse whisper of her own, eyes darting over the faces of the men around her; they are staring at her, she can feel their eyes crawling over her skin like tiny bugs. The urge to vomit is strong; the urge to run is nearly overpowering. She inches closer to Himura._

"_I am here. I will not leave you."_

_The shoji on the opposite wall slides open and Kogoro Katsura enters, surrounded as usual by his bodyguards. She tenses in surprise when Katsura actually comes around to stand by her kneeling form, waving his bodyguards back even as he bends slightly to address the man sitting to her right._

"_Gomen, may I sit here?" He asks the question as though truly expecting rejection._

_The other man immediately moves over, and Katsura kneels down next to Zetsumei Kurohyou as the inn's hostess and her girls begin to bring in the meal. He says nothing to her, nor she to him; she is still trying to figure out why he is making her eat out here. She just spent two weeks being tortured and molested by her supposed allies, along with another week and a half trying to heal her numerous injuries with Himura's help. She really, __**really**__ does not want to be here._

_She picks at her food, her appetite having died an apparently permanent death weeks ago; she eats only enough to satisfy Himura. She does not speak again. She keeps her eyes firmly on the rice bowl in front of her on the table. One hand clutches desperately around a chunk of Himura's gi; the other shakily manipulates her chopsticks._

_**Oh is the bitch hungry that's alright bitch here eat **_**this**

_**You like it don't you bitch don't stop take it all wrap that sweet mouth around it**_

_She sets her chopsticks down too hard, snapping them, jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut as the words reverberate through her head._

_A hand touches the fist that is crushing her chopsticks; her eyes snap open to fix on Katsura-sama. He is looking at her with pity clear in his brown eyes and all she wants to do is curl up in a ball and die. Death would be preferable to that look._

_Without looking away from her, Katsura-sama calls out, "Tomoe-san."_

_Kurohyou flinches again, not bothering to hide how little she wants to have to interact with the Yukishiro woman even as said woman quietly comes to stand behind Katsura-sama._

"_Hai, Katsura-sama?"_

"_May I ask you to assist Kurohyou-san back to her quarters? I must speak to Kenshin-san for a moment, but I do not wish to force Kurohyou-san to be alone until Kenshin-san can join her. Would you mind terribly, Tomoe-san?"_

_Yukishiro shakes her head in the negative._

_It takes supreme force of will for Kurohyou to release her hold on Himura's gi and stand. She keeps her eyes on the floor as she moves to exit the room, aware of the eyes that are watching her and the dainty footsteps of Yukishiro following closely behind her. She wants badly to tell Yukishiro to get away from her, but she does not trust her ability to speak and she does not want to hurt the other woman's feelings. Himura is falling in love with Yukishiro, after all; Kurohyou will therefore hold her tongue._

_Upon reaching her quarters, Kurohyou moves to the corner furthest from the door and plunks herself down, wedging her body firmly into the corner and drawing her knees up so that she can hug them to her chest. She ignores the woman completely; she doesn't give a shit how childish she appears right now. She is only fourteen; she has the right to one or two childish quirks._

_She wishes again for her daisho; she would feel safer with her weapons near at hand._

"_Ano…are you alright, Kurohyou-san?"_

_She ignores this amazingly stupid question and says nothing._

"_You ate very little. Shall I send for a small meal?"_

_**Take it bitch take it all take it deep**_

_**Salty liquid in her mouth**_

_**A hand in her hair holding her in place**_

_**Laughter**_

_**The taste of blood**_

_**Screaming**_

"_Kabu…kabu…"_

_She comes back to herself wrapped in Himura's arms, tears running in little rivers down her face as she clutches him. She buries her face in his shoulder, mortified at her behavior in front of the Yukishiro woman. She hopes that Yukishiro will either be kind enough or afraid enough not to say anything about this to anyone; she does not need the other men to know that she weeps. She cannot allow them to hear of her weakness._

"_It's alright, kabu, I have you now…I have you…shhh…"_

_She cannot make herself say anything in return. She is afraid to speak in fear that she will begin wailing and not be able to stop. Insanity lingers just on the edges of her mind, beckoning her to it with open arms. She is so close to snapping she wonders if she is really still sane at all._

_Zetsumei Kurohyou is falling apart at the seams, and the only thing even remotely able to hold her together is the man currently holding her._

_What will she do one day when he can no longer hold her?_

_What will hold her together then?_

* * *

Aoshi Shinomori stood calmly in the courtyard at the Kamiya Dojo and listened with half an ear as the Kamiya woman and the Takani woman both shouted at him in fury.

"You monster!"

"How dare you even suggest that!"

"I examined her myself! She was dead! I did not make a mistake!"

"You aren't going to dig up her… her b-body just to satisfy your sick curiosity!"

This had been going on for some time now, and Aoshi continued to wait patiently for the two harpies to stop overreacting so that he could explain. The boy, at least, seemed willing to listen to what he had to say, but as Aoshi intensely disliked having to repeat himself he had decided that waiting until the women quieted down would be best.

Surely even these two could not scream forever.

* * *

Yahiko tuned out the crap spewing from the mouths of buso and Megumi both; they could bitch without him paying attention. He had more important things to think about.

Was it possible? Was there really even the smallest, tiniest chance in Hell that Midori was somehow still alive? Was the gloomy jerk ninja serious, and more importantly was he right?

Yahiko was really wishing that Sanosuke was here right now; the rooster-head might be an idiot, but he was an idiot who always knew when someone was serious and when they were full of shit. Yahiko wasn't really sure either way; he didn't know jack about the ninja except that he had wanted to kill Kenshin and had been defeated. Would that be reason enough for the ninja to lie to them? But then why bother, when Kenshin wasn't even here? Yahiko had already told Shinomori that Kenshin was in the Rakinunmura, so if he was just inventing the whole possibility to get Kenshin's hopes up before cruelly dashing them, why was he still here getting yelled at?

Well, if he didn't know the answer, he'd have to find out through other means.

"Oi, weasel."

Even if those means were _really_ _freaking_ _annoying_.

Yahiko ducked just in time to dodge the kunai chunked at his head by a pissed off girl.

"Don't call me weasel you little twerp!"

He ignored this; her insults were nothing compared to the most infinitesimal hope that Midori might still be alive.

"Is he serious?" the boy demanded, jerking his thumb in Shinomori's direction. "Our friend might really be alive? This isn't just some sick joke or anything?"

"No."

It was Shinomori who answered, not the weasel. Yahiko eyed the man doubtfully, trying to decide whether to trust him or not. Should he let himself hope, only to have those hopes shattered if this _was_ a joke? Should he put his trust in this man?

…

What if he was right?

"Dig her up," Yahiko blurted out, going over to stand between Shinomori and the two women. Kaoru and Megumi immediately stopped yelling at Shinomori and started screaming at Yahiko, obviously pissed that he would condone such a thing. Yahiko ignored them, pointed a finger at Shinomori, and repeated his demand.

"Dig her up. Now. Tonight. If you're right, and it's just some fancy doll, we won't know for sure until we dig up the body. If you're right then we need to know. So come on, I'll show you where we buried her."

"NO!"

"YAHIKO! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?"

"SHUT UP!"

Silence.

Yahiko took several deep, shaky breaths, trying to calm himself down. It was not manly to blow up at the women. It would be even less manly to let the tears of frustration burning at the back of his eyes move to the front – or worse, fall down his face.

"I want her back," he eventually croaked, his eyes shadowed by the fall of his hair. "If she's alive out there somewhere, if she's not what we buried, if she's trapped alone with that white-haired freak and we're standing around wasting time shouting instead of finding her….That's not going to work. I want her back if she's alive. I'm going to find her if she's alive. If you two want to stay here and argue then go ahead. I'm going to help Shinomori dig up the coffin."

He didn't bother waiting around for a reply. He stalked away, headed for the storage shed with Shinomori following silently at his heels. He was pretty sure buso had a couple of shovels stashed in her shed somewhere…

_We're coming, Midori. Hang in there._

* * *

Midori frowned at the ground, pressing her back more firmly against the tree behind her as she ran some of the sandy dirt of the island between her fingers. The gesture was made without thought, merely something to do to keep her hands busy. Her thoughts were on something much more complex than the dirt of this island she was fast growing to hate.

Like her captor, and his weird behavior over the past week.

He checked on her at night. _Every_ night. He followed her around during the day, asking frequently how she was feeling or if she needed anything. He had apparently ordered clothing to be included on this week's supply ferry, because after its departure yesterday he had presented Midori with several new sets of _gi_ and _hakama_ – all black. Several times he had asked her to spar with him again, and he had yet to grow visibly angry at her continuous refusals.

He had tried to cook for her again. His food made Kaoru's taste like a gourmet feast.

Midori had no earthly idea what his game was now. Was he acting on orders from the illusion of his dead sister? That seemed the most likely situation; Midori seriously doubted he would make such an effort to be kind to her of his own accord. She was the lover of the person Enishi hated most in the world – of course he would hate her too. That made sense.

This new…sociability he was trying to establish between them did not.

Midori's frown deepened as she scooped up more sandy dirt.

Enishi's transformation of sorts had started the morning after Midori's breakdown. Midori had trudged up to the mansion some time after dawn, having spent the remainder of the night outdoors, only to be greeted in the kitchen by Enishi and a cup of hot jasmine tea. Midori had to admit, the man might not be able to cook worth shit, but his tea was pretty damn good. He had sat quietly as she drank the brew, and then had touched her hand gently and softly requested that she follow him out behind his house. Warily, Midori had done so; only to find that he had led her straight to a large bathhouse, inside of which several buckets of water waited beside a steaming tub built into the floor. Enishi had pointed out her change of clothes – a _hakama_ and _gi_ set in dark grey – along with the soap and several towels before quietly departing, informing her that there was a furnace built under the deep pool-like tub and that she should take as long as she liked.

He had found her on the balcony late that night, her legs swinging freely over the edge while her eyes gazed listlessly at the moon-lit sea. He had come to crouch beside her before quietly asking her if she needed anything to help her sleep. When she had failed to answer, Enishi had stood and informed her that he would willingly give her sleeping medicine if she wished, as he knew all too well how nightmares could rob a person of much-needed rest. He had assured her that the offer was open at any time before withdrawing, closing the windows leading into her room behind him as he went.

The next morning she had found him in the kitchen, trying to cook.

That had not been repeated; the burn marks on his walls seemed to be dissuading him from trying again. Or maybe it was the way they had both vomited his concoction afterwards. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

He was gentle with her; always keeping his voice low and even; always making an effort to make conversation with her despite her refusal to cooperate; always checking on her periodically throughout the day. It was as though something had shifted inside the white-haired mafia boss; Midori had difficulty believing that the person who had laid Kenshin open from shoulder to hip – the person who had kidnapped her and tried to frighten and intimidate her – was the same man she was currently stuck living with.

She had also noticed that in the past week, Enishi had become somewhat protective around her whenever his second-in-command came near her.

Her kidnapper, protecting her.

Under any other circumstances such a thing might have been funny.

A figure moved to stand between Midori and the warmth of the sun, casting its cold shadow over her form. Midori gave the figure a cursory glance before returning her eyes to the earth in her hand, letting the grains of sand trickle slowly through her fingers. She did not attempt to speak; her unwanted guest would do so shortly without her prompting.

"Are you alright?"

She said nothing.

She was getting tired of that question.

"Did you sleep any last night?"

She gave a non-committal shrug of her shoulders; she'd slept for a few hours before the nightmares had forced her awake again.

With an audible sigh Enishi sank down to sit cross-legged in front of her, a frown on his handsome face. He regarded her with mild irritation, his fingers tapping out a rhythm against his thighs as he seemed to ponder what to say. Midori waited patiently, used to the tendency Enishi had developed of carefully choosing his words before addressing her. Yet another change that had become apparent in the past week.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

Midori eyed him from under her bangs, faintly curious. This was new. Enishi had never before asked her for personal information. Slowly she nodded, scooping up another handful of dirt as she did so.

"Why did you fight against Makoto Shishio last year? My spies tell me that Shishio offered you a place at his side; they tell me that he would have won his battle against the Battousai if you had not fought against him. Why did you reject him? Didn't he love you?"

…Did Shishio love her?

Probably. At least as much as he was capable of loving anybody. He was definitely obsessed with her, if that was what Enishi was asking. And it was true that Shishio had offered Midori a place at his side once he took over Japan.

_Once I kill the Battousai and crush the Meiji government – once I have the nation of Japan cradled on the brink of chaos and the strong of this country lined up behind me – I'm going to make you mine forever, Midori. _

_Whether you like it or not._

…Perhaps 'offered' was not the correct word.

"Shishio lost because of his lack of sweat glands," she muttered in reply to Enishi's questions, using her finger to draw random patterns in the dirt. "He combusted. That's why he lost. Why I rejected him is none of your business. I am not intimately aware of the workings of an insane mind, so I cannot answer the question of whether or not Shishio loved me. I fought against him because he threatened Himura; I didn't give a shit about the plans he had for the country or the Meiji government. I would have happily sat back and let him do as he pleased had he not threatened Himura. Does that answer all of your questions?"

For a moment she thought that Enishi wasn't going to answer. When he did speak again, it was to ask another question.

"Wasn't he your partner during the Bakumatsu?"

Midori again eyed her interrogator from behind her bangs, mulling over the possible answers she could give before replying.

"Himura was my partner. Shishio was just another of many annoyances."

"But you saved his life, didn't you?"

How in the _hell_ had Enishi found out about that?

"…I was repaying a debt. Nothing more."

Inexplicably, at that moment the scars from both Kenshin's attack upon her eleven years ago and Shishio's attack one year ago tingled painfully. Only force of will prevented Midori's hand from jumping to either her left shoulder or the center of her chest to rub at one of the aches.

Odd. Neither of the scars had bothered her in a long time. True the attack from Shishio had resulted in the heart attacks she now suffered regularly, but the actual scar never gave her any problems. The scar from Kenshin's attempt to kill her back in the Bakumatsu had not pained her since Shishio's death.

Why were they both flaring up now?

Enishi shifted in front of her, reminding Midori that she was not alone. He had a sort of pensively curious look on his face; obviously he had more questions. Midori frowned at him, regarding her captor through eyes narrowed with mistrust.

"Why are you so curious all of a sudden?" she asked rather abruptly. "What difference does it make to you why I chose to fight against Shishio instead of fighting with him?"

Enishi shrugged, peering at Midori over the rims of his dark glasses. "I'm simply trying to understand why you would stay with a man who attempted to kill you over a man who saved your life. It doesn't make sense to me."

_How_ did he know about _that_?

Midori stared, barely able to keep her mouth from hanging open in shock. How the hell did Enishi get his information? No one alive should know that Shishio had saved Midori's life except for Midori and Kenshin. Midori hadn't even shared that with her other friends. So how in the seventh pit of Hell did Enishi Yukishiro have that information?

Enishi must have read the surprised disbelief on her face, because he smirked at her as though highly amused by her reaction.

"Just because you never spoke about it doesn't mean Shishio showed the same tact. He seems to have been quite proud of the fact that he saved and bedded Zetsumei Kurohyou of the Ishin Shishi; my spies brought me that bit of information when they were finalizing the sale of that battleship you and the Battousai destroyed last spring. Some woman that was with him – Komagata? – was quite happy to tell my men about it, as well as about how you apparently saved him from death after he was lit on fire by the Meiji government."

That _bitch _Yumi. That loud-mouthed _asshole_ Shishio! If they weren't already dead…

Laughter jolted her back to the present and out of contemplations of resurrecting the two idiots so that she could kill them again. Enishi was laughing. At her.

Fucker.

"You're blushing," he informed her, still chuckling even as he rose to his feet and offered her a hand. Midori ignored it, lowering her head so that her burning face was directed towards the ground and clenching her hands into fists; a sizable quantity of dirt ended up pressed into one fist while cloth filled the other. She half-wished the ground would just open up and swallow her before she had the chance to die from embarrassment.

"I have another question," Enishi announced; from the sound of his voice he had moved to lean against a tree as well, just in front and to the right of Midori. "Why do you hate my _onee_-_sama_ so much? She cares for you, apparently; I don't understand why you hate her the way that you do. Has the Battousai turned you against her?"

Midori's previously scarlet face went white with anger. Scenes from memories flashed through her brain.

_"Ano…are you and Himura-san…together?"_ Tomoe Yukishiro's blushing face and softly voiced question.

_"What if she doesn't like me?" _Kenshin, fifteen years old; drunk and depressed and fretting over the affections of the Yukishiro woman.

_"Take care of him, Yukishiro-san."_ Her own voice, just before Kenshin left Kyoto with the woman.

_"Please say my name. I want to pretend it is her. Please."_ Kenshin, the cross-shaped scar newly completed on his cheek, sobbing into her lap over the death of his wife.

"I hate your precious sister," Midori hissed in a deadly voice, hands fisted so tightly now that her knuckles were stark-white against her skin, "because she fell in love with Himura and then nearly killed him with guilt and grief. I hate her because he loved her first. I hate her because when he came back to me after her death I held his head in my lap while he wept for her. I hate her because I pushed Himura towards her without knowing what she really was. I hate her because I told her to take care of Himura and she failed to do so. I hate her because –"

She stopped, biting her tongue to keep the words in her mouth. Enishi didn't need to know that reason. _Nobody_ needed to know that particular reason behind Midori's hatred of Tomoe.

"Is she the reason you have been so kind to me this past week?" she barked, raising her head to glare at Enishi. "Is the Tomoe of your delusions telling you to treat me like an honored guest instead of a hated prisoner? Because if so, I'd prefer the hated prisoner treatment; it would be much more accurate."

Enishi said nothing, nor did he ask any more questions. There was silence between them for a long time.

At last Midori clamored to her feet, brushing of the seat of her _hakama_ before turning around and walking back in the direction of the mansion – and more importantly, the bathhouse. That was the one place, it seemed, where she could go and Enishi would not bother her. And right now she wanted to be alone.

"If you are trying to be kind to me," she called over her shoulder as she walked away, "you should let me off this godsdamned island. If I have to stay here much longer, I will end up as crazy as you are.

"And I have grave doubts that either of us would survive that."

* * *

Hours later, Enishi sits on his balcony in the light of the setting sun, a wine glass in one hand and his mind on Zetsumei Kurohyou.

The woman utterly fascinates him.

Enishi has not had a lot of experience dealing with women on a daily basis. Sure, he's had his share of courtesans – he is a man, after all – but none of them more than once, and only for a few hours. This woman has been here for two weeks now, and ever since he began treating her nicely she has completely fascinated him with her behavior. It's as though she doesn't quite know how to act around him anymore.

Is she so unused to kind behavior from anyone other than the Battousai and his friends?

He thinks of the scars that mar her flesh and the sometimes haunted look she has in the early mornings, and figures the answer is probably yes.

She had surprised him earlier; he had not really expected her to answer his questions. The answers themselves had given rise to yet more questions. What was so shocking about her reasons for rejecting Shishio that she refused to tell him? Why did she say that she would not have interfered in Shishio's plans if he had left the Battousai alone? Did the woman agree with Shishio's ideas that the Meiji government was so weak and ineffective that it deserved to be toppled?

Is she lying about not knowing whether or not Makoto Shishio loved her? Why does she not consider Makoto Shishio a partner, when she worked alongside him far longer than she did the Battousai? Does she really consider her act of saving Shishio's life as nothing more than settling a debt, or does she have other motives she is now refusing to share?

The woman is a complex puzzle, and Enishi feels like every time he thinks he has her figured out, one of the puzzle pieces will change shape and no longer fit where he has placed it.

For instance, he had not thought that the mention of her sexual escapade with Shishio would embarrass her to such a degree. Enishi does not believe that he has ever seen that particular shade of red on a person's face before. Obviously that is not a night she enjoys talking about frequently.

Enishi decides that he will mention it occasionally, just to annoy his intriguing houseguest.

She has recovered well from being poisoned; her ribs have already healed sufficiently as well. She has taken over the cooking – after a rather unfortunate accident on his part that has left horrid burn marks upon the walls of his kitchen – and she seems to enjoy the bathhouse. She has taken to exercising on the beach twice a day, and he has developed the habit of observing her as she runs through what appear to be katas without a weapon. Her style intrigues him, but so far he has been unsuccessful in talking her into sparring with him again.

She is still very uneasy around him, but Enishi is doing everything he can to fix that. After all, _onee_-_sama_ wants him to get along with the woman and to make the woman happy. Therefore Enishi will continue to get to know his guest better and do whatever he has to do to make her feel completely at ease around him.

Her nightmares and bouts of sleeplessness worry him. Enishi has tried repeatedly to convince the woman to use some of the sleeping powder he keeps for his own occasional use, but she continues to stubbornly refuse. He has come to expect being woken up in the middle of the night to hastily muffled cries as her nightmares follow her into wakefulness. He is confident that one of these nights, he is going to offer her the use of the sleeping medication and she is going to say yes. Surely with the lack of sleep draining her, such an outcome is only a matter of time.

He takes a sip of his wine, his thoughts turning to what she said about his _onee_-_sama_. Normally he would be furious over her comments, but _onee_-_sama_ is still smiling at him and he had been the one to ask for answers; he supposes he can't really throw a fit over it. Besides, the information is so _intriguing_.

_I hate your precious sister because she fell in love with Himura and then nearly killed him with grief and guilt._

The Battousai had felt grief? But what of Enishi's feelings? Had Enishi not also felt grief – did he not _still_ feel grief? Guilt he can understand – Himura should be choking on it, and he sighs in disappointment that the combination of grief and crushing guilt have not killed the man already.

_I hate her because he loved her first._

Enishi wonders if the woman had meant to say that out loud. Is it possible that the woman is jealous of _onee_-_sama_? Jealous that _onee_-_sama_ claimed the Battousai before she could do so? Jealousy – or so he has heard – is an ugly emotion capable of turning people into animals. Had the woman become an animal when the Battousai and _onee_-_sama_ had begun their little courtship?

Enishi has the sudden mental image of an irate panther snarling at him with ears laid flat on its skull and teeth bared to pointy perfection.

Were anyone around to see him at the moment, they would doubtlessly think he has lost his mind; why else would he be grinning like a maniac?

_I hate her because when he came back to me after her death I held his head in my lap while he wept for her._

She expects him to believe that the Battousai cares enough about the woman he murdered to cry for her? Does the Battousai think that a few tears should be enough for this pathetic 'atonement' he is seeking? Fools, the both of them.

_I hate her because I pushed Himura towards her without knowing what she really was._

Enishi is unsure how to process this information. How had the woman pushed the Battousai towards Enishi's _onee_-_sama_? Why? Aren't they supposed to be in love? What, exactly, did the woman mean about not knowing what _onee_-_sama_ really was? She was everything to Enishi, mother and sister rolled into one; what more was there to know?

_I hate her because I told her to take care of Himura and she failed to do so._

Enishi snorts at that. Of course _onee_-_sama_ did not bring her companion back. She died, in pain and freezing, in a snowy fields not too far from the hut she and the Battousai had chosen to stay in. And even had she not died, Battousai would then be at the top of the list of victims. However, the difference between Enishi's _onee_-_sama_ and the Battousai is that _onee_-_sama_ is completely free of all stains. She was innocent; she did not deserve to die.

Battousai, who is so bloodstained his very hair is colored crimson, deserves to die a thousand times over. Why would _onee_-_sama_ try to protect someone like him?

_I hate her because – _

Because what? What had the woman stopped herself from admitting?

Enishi does not know, but he is determined to find out.

He has so many questions he wants to ask her. He wants to ask her about her family, the people that allowed her to learn swordsmanship in spite of the fact that she is female. He wants to ask about her first kill. He wants to ask about exactly how she acquired each of the manifold scars that cover her flesh nearly everywhere but her face.

He is considering keeping her. He has told her that eventually he will release her to return to Japan; he had originally planned to do just that once the Battousai finally allowed his grief to kill him. Now, however, things are different.

Different, because he actually sleeps now that the woman is here. Different, because he enjoys sharing meals with her after she cooks. Different, because his _onee_-_sama_ has been smiling happily at him for a solid two weeks, ever since he brought the woman to his island. In the week that he has been nice to the woman, his _onee_-_sama's_ eyes practically glow with approval.

The woman's presence here has made _onee_-_sama_ happy.

Enishi doesn't want to lose that.

Perhaps his fascinating houseguest will be staying.

Indefinitely.

* * *

A/N: Shorter than usual. Please review.


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

_Midori scowls at the river, aware of her audience but not in the mood to start the inevitable conversation. He followed her, he can be the one who speaks first. She will sit here and berate herself._

"_Yo, aibou!"_

_Damnit. He's decided not to wait to see if she's going to start._

_Sanosuke's lanky figure plops down next to her, not as close as usual but not far enough away to add to her guilt. She knows that her friend is trying to give her space while simultaneously 'being there' for her, and the conflict of the two actions has ceased to baffle her. Sanosuke is and always will be a conundrum._

_Usually, Midori doesn't mind; he makes her life more interesting._

_Today, she just wants him to go away so she can commit seppuka in privacy._

_She attacked a civilian today._

_A civilian who was fondling a twelve-year-old girl in a back alley right outside the Akabeko, true, but he was still a civilian._

_It is just dumb luck that she happens to have been at the Akabeko at all. Sanosuke had shown up this morning – unannounced, as was his custom – and dragged Midori off, talking of beef and hot pots and her impressive coin purse. She had let him haul her around, always happy to spend time with her friend, and knowing that Tae-san was going to add most of the cost to Sanosuke's massive tab anyway. Kenshin had waved them off with a slightly apprehensive smile, as though wishing to accompany them but unwilling to crowd them._

_Midori wishes very much that he had come with them. Maybe then she wouldn't be sitting here cursing herself for attacking that civilian._

_A nudge to the side; she has forgotten that Sanosuke is beside her. She tries to hide her face in embarrassment._

"_Oi, knock it off, Midori. I'm going to bite your head off." He is annoyed with her, as though feeling guilty for losing control against an unarmed civilian is completely irrational._

"_I nearly killed him," she croaks, knowing that her friend will hate the tone of voice but not caring. "I __**wanted**__ to kill him. I wanted to watch the light leave his eyes."_

_And that, she knows, is the real problem. Not that she lost control against a perverted civilian and stabbed him in the shoulder and sliced him across the knees. Not that she scared the living daylights out of the little girl he had been fondling, who had crouched in that alley feet away from Midori and looked at her like she was a monster. All of those things are just pinpricks of guilt that she will get over by the end of the day._

_What she will _**not**_ get over is the horror at herself, for wanting to kill a civilian._

_What she will _**not**_ get over is the sense of disappointment she has felt since Sanosuke put her in a headlock and she watched her prey escape, still alive._

_How can she say this to Sanosuke in a way he will understand? How is she to look Kenshin in the eye and explain herself to him? She can't. They will not understand; not Sano who has never taken a life, and not Kenshin who has had ten years to get used to not killing every annoyance._

"_Stop beating yourself up," Sanosuke orders, sounding very concerned. He tries to put his arm around her shoulders, and reacts with surprise when Midori jerks away and clambers to her feet._

"_You should be _physically_ beating me up," she mumbles, pacing away from him and back again; her steps are forced and jerky, unlike her naturally smooth gait. "I would deserve such punishment. I am a monster."_

"_Shut up right there." Sanosuke is on his feet as well, trying to catch her eye; she will not raise them from the ground beneath her. "Don't say shit like that, Midori. You don't need punishment and you're not a monster."_

"_Did you not see what I did to that piece of shit?" she hisses, stalking away from him._

"_Well, yeah, but he deserved it, and you stopped before –"_

"_You stopped me," she corrects, now approaching, now whirling away._

"_But you wouldn't have actually –"_

"_Yes, I would have." Her voice is rising and she can't bring it down._

"_Nah, you would've –"_

"_KILLED HIM!"_

_She shouts the words in his face, hands flying out to fist in the material of his white jacket so she can drag him close._

"_IF YOU HADN'T GOTTEN IN THE WAY I WOULD HAVE FUCKING **KILLED** HIM! AND I WOULD HAVE **ENJOYED** IT! I WOULDN'T REGRET IT IN THE SLIGHTEST! I WANT NOTHING MORE THAN TO GO FIND HIM RIGHT NOW AND FINISH WHAT YOU INTERRUPTED! I WOULD PRESENT HIS HEAD TO THAT CHILD IN A BASKET! SO DON'T STAND THERE AND TELL YOURSELF I WOULD HAVE LET HIM LIVE, SANOSUKE SAGARA, BECAUSE THAT IS A **LIE**!"_

_She shoves him away from her, disgusted with herself and furious at his naivety. Sanosuke's feet go out from under him, leaving him to sprawl on his back on the ground as she stands over him._

"_I'M NOT AS INNOCENT AS YOU MAKE YOURSELF BELIEVE! I'M NOT KENSHIN WHO HAS SWORN OFF KILLING! YOU KNOW NEXT TO NOTHING ABOUT ME, SAGARA, AND THAT IS THE ONLY REASON YOU CAN LOOK AT ME WITHOUT FEAR! YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND ME! I WILL NEVER BE LIKE YOU, LIKE KENSHIN! I AM A MONSTER COMPARED TO YOU FOOLS!"_

_Midori is a killer. She has killed for revenge. She has killed to protect herself. She has killed for money. The blade on her back is not reversed, is not harmless. Killing has been a part of her life for fifteen years, and she is not Kenshin who can just stop. Even now, when it has been over an hour since she assaulted that man, she can still smell his fear and his blood and the urine he released in terror. And she itches to find him and finish the job, complete the kill. She could have him in her sights within fifteen minutes tops; she could end his life and disappear before anyone else is aware. The man himself wouldn't even know what was happening until it was done. Her mind is running over all the ways she can kill him; her hands are actually shaking from the restraint she is using to keep from implementing one of many mental plans._

_She is waiting for the day when her control snaps completely. The day she fears will come, when she sees a potential enemy and does not even attempt to hold back. One day, be it tomorrow or next week or ten years down the road, she is afraid of who her victim will be when her small reservoir of control evaporates completely._

_Someday, she will get into a fight for one reason or the other, and she will kill her opponent. She will kill them and she will reveal in their demise. This is fact._

_When that happens, she very much doubts that she will ever stop killing again._

_She does not think that she will want to._

* * *

A very, very drunk Sanosuke sat in a dark corner of a dank little bar in a shithole town, staring moodily into the middle distance as he knocked back his twenty-eight jug of sake. He'd beaten the shit out of some thugs that afternoon, and had swiped their loaded wallets as compensation for such a shitty fight. He'd been steadily drinking the money away for the past few hours, and he had no plans to stop soon.

Maybe if he drank enough, if he could get well and truly wasted, he wouldn't have to see _her_ pinned to the wall in Jou-chan's dojo tonight in his dreams. Maybe her corpse wouldn't spend the night screaming that it was his fault she was dead.

Dammit, it _was_ his fault. He was a man, right? And men were supposed to protect women, right? So why was she the one lying in a box in the ground while he was left here alone with nothing but cheap sake for company?

Why did this always happen? Why couldn't he ever protect anybody he loved, huh? He'd been useless when Sagara-taochi and the other guys in the Sekihotai had been butchered like cattle right in front of him, and he'd been completely fucking useless when that fucker Yukishiro killed his _aibou_ not twenty feet from where he'd been standing in all that weird smoke. He was a useless loser, just like that wolf-prick Saito had told him when Kenshin had run off to Kyoto and left him behind.

Just a useless fucking loser.

That's all he'd ever been, and it wasn't going to change any time soon, either.

* * *

Yahiko fumed at the bastard of a police officer, wishing Kenshin or Midori was around so they could kick his ass and make him help. Sadly, Kenshin was off sulking himself to death while Midori was missing and at the mercy of a complete nutcase.

Oh, and Saito was being a prick, but that was nothing new.

"Why didn't you tell us she was alive if you knew that already?" he demanded angrily. Seriously, what was this jerk's problem? Yahiko's little family fell apart after they thought Midori died, and Saito didn't even have the heart to tell them she wasn't actually dead?

Did Saito even _have_ a heart?

Saito shrugged at him. "I've been a little busy. I don't have time to play messenger just to make you feel better, boy."

No, no he didn't.

"Well, if you're not too _busy_," Yahiko snapped, hands clenching tightly at his sides as he tried to control himself, "maybe you would be so kind as to tell us _where the hell our friend is?"_

Another shrug. "How should I know? I don't keep track of the _youma's_ every move. Find her yourself."

Yahiko had to remind himself – several times – that the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu was a school that advocated non-killing sword techniques.

This was going to be a long conversation.

* * *

"Why do you continue to pester me about this?"

Enishi sends the woman sitting across the table from him a flat look. "Perhaps I am simply bored."

She glowers at him, and he has to bite the inside of his lip to stop the threatening smirk from surfacing.

He has had immense fun with the woman. He seriously doubts that she has enjoyed it as much as he, but that's her problem. He can't help it if she has a perpetual stick up her ass. Besides, she's much more fun to mess with when seriously annoyed.

This morning he decided he wants to get to know her better, to learn more about her. So as soon as she exited her room for her customary cup of tea, he began following her, spouting off somewhat personal questions. For instance, he has asked her favorite food, her favorite time of year, whether she prefers sake to the whiskey she tried after coming here, and why she wears her hair so long.

Her replies have been laced with words no honorable lady should ever utter.

"Come, woman, what harm could come of letting me cut your hair?" he says now, leaning towards her across the table, his chin resting on his hands and his elbows on the wooden surface. He has asked this question – in several different variations – multiple times without receiving a satisfactory answer. She keeps telling him to 'mind his own damn business', and he supposes the length of her hair really isn't any of his concern. However, riling her up is so entertaining Enishi finds himself unwilling to drop the subject. Maybe if he asks often enough she will become so flustered she will answer without meaning to.

Perhaps if he is very persistent, he will succeed in making her blush. He has achieved that amazing feat several times since yesterday's question-and-answers conversation when he asked about Shishio, and he finds that he quite likes the way such a reaction makes her look.

Softer, somehow. More womanly.

More attractive.

"Do you delight in annoying me past the point of normal human endurance?" she quips.

"Yes."

The woman fumes in a very dignified manner. Enishi is frankly impressed with her amazing self control; he has been waiting for the inevitable blow up, waiting for her to attack him in anger or frustration or – much more likely – annoyance. And yet it hasn't come. Aside from the twitching of a muscle in her jaw and another beside her right eye, Enishi is almost having problems telling whether or not he is bothering her.

"What idiocy has possessed you, that you think even for a moment that I would trust you with anything remotely sharp around my neck area – or around my person in general, for that matter?"

At least until she opens her mouth, that is.

"Do you dislike short hair?" he questions. This would help explain why the woman is so drawn to the Battousai. _Why_ would any woman want to be seen in the company of a man with hair longer than hers and dressed in such a feminine color? Hell, the woman is more masculine than the Battousai seems to be.

He'll mention that later. He's sure to get a wonderful reaction out of her.

She regards him tiredly from under her long bangs, the bags under her eyes more noticeable than ever. "I dislike _you_. Greatly."

"Then why not spar with me?" Enishi counters smoothly, idly running his gaze over her face and figure. She's lost more weight again. "Shouldn't you be jumping at the chance to attempt to grievously injure me?"

"Give me my _katana_ and we shall talk."

Enishi grins. He was wondering when she would bring that up. That has been her condition every time he has asked her to spar with him since he changed his behavior towards her. He tells her the same thing in reply every time.

"You must kiss Heishin first."

She actually growls at him.

It's a joke more than anything. He will never force her to perform such an abominable act. Heishin is a disgusting excuse for a man; no woman should be punished with the curse of his sexual attraction. Enishi's threats to his second-in-command the day the woman was poisoned have done their job; Heishin tries his damndest to stay away from the woman, and as far as Enishi knows they have had no more confrontations.

Not that either of them would correct his assumption if he is wrong. The woman is too damn stubborn and Heishin is too big of a coward.

"So do you use your _katana_ when sparring against the Battousai?" he asks, purposely making his voice flippant, as though not caring that she obviously hates when he speaks of that bastard. "Or am I just special?"

She bristles at his comment, quite like a cat puffing its fur out.

"Do not speak to me of him," she commands, voice so quiet it's almost a whisper.

"Pining for your lost lover?" he sneers, grin widening as something ugly passes over her face. The woman stands abruptly and moves to leave. Enishi leisurely hauls himself out of his own chair and lopes after her, following her out into the foyer of his mansion. He muses loudly to himself as they make their way outside.

"Why do you suppose he hasn't come looking for you yet, hm? Your friends should have the brains needed to figure out by now that Gein's little toy wasn't you, so they should know that you're alive. It shouldn't be terribly hard for Battousai to get Hajime Saito to tell him where they think my island is. Since the police raided my hideout in Tokyo while I was busy with Jinchu, they would have access to that information; I left out enough clues for them I practically told them exactly where to find me. So, what do you think woman? Why has your precious Battousai not come to your rescue already, even after over two weeks?"

The woman doesn't answer; she has sped up slightly, probably in the hopes of getting away from Enishi.

Too bad he enjoys the chase.

"Perhaps he is ill from the wound I gave him," he speculates, grinning wider still at the way her shoulders twitch. "It was, after all, the same wound he gave my _onee_-_sama_ when he killed her. Maybe he isn't as strong as I thought. Or maybe he decided he doesn't actually care about you. Maybe he isn't coming for you at all."

That is obviously not what the woman wants to hear; in an instant she is in his face, nearly foaming at the mouth in rage.

"Stop it," she hisses, and he waits for her to try to hit him. Surely that should have upset her enough to snap her control. But no, she's backing up, settling for giving him a glare that should be able to kill him on the spot.

"Stop playing with me. I am not some toy."

"Oh, forgive me," Enishi responds, his voice dripping with politeness. "I didn't realize you disliked the topic under discussion. What would you rather talk about?"

"When are you going to stop this infernal new game you have decided to play?"

That brings him up short. He narrows his eyes at her, studying the woman's ticked off face. "What do you mean by that, woman? I was merely trying to start a conversation. I'm not playing a game."

"Of course not. It is obvious that your sudden concern with both my well being and my entertainment – or lack thereof – stems entirely from the fact that you are a gracious host and I am an honored guest."

Enishi shrugs, knowing it will irritate her even more. "Why else?"

"Bastard," she spits, spinning around and stalking away from him again. Enishi grins widely, greatly amused by her temper, and follows.

"I'll be nicer if you spar with me," he wheedles, truly itching to get her back into the training dojo with a bokken in her hands. Her style is fascinating. He wants to see her use it again. He wants to memorize the moves as she makes them, find every weak point in every attack she might use. He's confident that he will not hurt her this time; her ribs are healed well enough, she hasn't had a seizure in days – that he's aware of - and with his _onee_-_sama_ smiling happily behind his eyelids every time he blinks it should be easy to brush off any insults the woman might pay _onee_-_sama_ if she grows angry enough to do so again.

The woman ignores him, trying to put more distance between them by lengthening her strides until she is nearly jogging to get away from him. Enishi's grin dies, to be replaced by a frown. Doesn't the woman know that it is extremely rude for a person to walk away when being spoken to? And hasn't she figured out by now that Enishi absolutely _hates_ being ignored?

He darts forward and grabs her wrist, pulling her to a stop. Predictably she swings her other arm at him, nearly swatting him in the face.

"I just want a spar, stubborn woman, not an all-out bloodbath. What other pressing appointments do you have today that make it impossible to spar with me?"

He finds he likes the feel of her small hand on his chest as she shoves him away and yanks her arm free. He also immensely enjoys the fury plainly evident on her face as she spins around on one foot and attempts to kick him in the jaw with the other. Enishi dodges, dropping to his haunches to avoid the kick and sweeping at her feet with one leg in a half-assed attempt at knocking her down. Predictably she is able to avoid him, doing a back handspring so that she puts space between them once again.

Sneaky woman.

"Do you _want_ me to kill you?" she growls at him, and Enishi realizes that he is grinning like a devil. He cannot help it; he succeeded in his mission to anger the woman into losing control, and he finds that he is quite pleased with himself.

"Oh, I doubt I have anything to worry about," he retorts, in as unworried a voice as he can produce. "I would not be concerned even if you had your precious _katana_ in your hands at the moment. Women are weaker than men, after all."

_Goading_ _her_ _is_ _so_ _much_ _fun_, he thinks even as he dodges a punch thrown his way. He finds it amazing that the woman is able to cover distances so fast; the only speeds he has seen that are faster than this woman would be Battousai's and – he thinks – his own. It is surprising that a woman can make herself move like that.

But that's not as surprising as the sudden stab of pain in his forearm as he blocks what he thinks is another punch.

Enishi curses, yanking his arm away from her and taking a step back. The woman does not press the advantage; she allows him to retreat and backs away herself, eyeing him warily as she goes. Enishi takes his eyes from her only long enough to see just what the hell she's done to his arm, and then he goes back to glaring at her, grin long gone.

There's a fucking piece of wood jabbed into the skin of his forearm. And it's bleeding. A lot.

The fucking woman stabbed him with a stick.

_Bitch_.

He jerks the stick from his skin and tosses it aside, using all the self control he can muster to keep from lunging at the woman and making her bleed. Making her bleed will make _onee_-_sama_ unhappy. He must not make _onee_-_sama_ unhappy.

"I don't need a _katana_ to make you bleed," the woman taunts, the beginnings of a smirk pulling at her lips. "Just because your sister was so pathetically weak does not mean that all women are like her."

He _must_ _not_ make _onee_-_sama_ unhappy.

"I wish _onee_-_sama_ had liked the Kamiya woman instead," he grumbles, too annoyed at the blood trickling down his arm to care if the woman hears him. "Her I could have put up with. She is much weaker than you, crazy woman. Why did that bastard Battousai have to become attached to a woman with mental problems?"

Apparently the woman can hear him, and doesn't like that last comment. She lunges at him once more.

Well, tough shit. Enishi's done getting beat on by this annoying female. He lunges at her in return.

His weight knocks the woman to the ground, and he immediately takes the precaution of grabbing her wrists and pinning them as well. In seconds Enishi is straddling the woman's hips, smirking down at her furiously snarling face. It is blaringly obvious that the woman absolutely _hates_ this position, and she is going mad with thwarted efforts to get up or get Enishi off of her.

Again, tough shit. Payback, as they say, is a bitch.

"All of this could have been avoided," he informs her calmly around his rapidly growing smirk, "if you were less damnably stubborn and would just _spar_ with me. I need some way to release all of my frustrations, and if you won't spar, this is as good a way as any."

He's joking, of course. He is not the type of man to force himself upon an unwilling woman, mafia boss or not. He has no intention of doing anything to the woman beneath him except annoying her into agreeing to a nice long spar – or to death, whichever comes first.

Unfortunately, his memory does not deign to inform him that the woman is not one to appreciate such humor due to past horrible experiences until _after_ she begins having a miniature panic attack, which quickly escalates into a freak-out unlike any he can ever remember witnessing.

Damn his luck.

At least she didn't bite him this time.

Enishi practically leaps off of her, jumping back and putting his hands up at his sides in a nonthreatening manner as the woman scrambles to her feet. Like hell he's going to apologize – she attacked him first, he was just retaliating. But he supposes he doesn't need to terrify her – although her constant fear of rape in his company seriously grates on his nerves. He is a lot of terrible things and he has done even more, but he is not a fucking rapist.

Didn't they already have this conversation?

Hard-headed, stubborn fool of a woman.

"…I apologize."

**_What?_**

The woman is scowling at her own hands, which are shaking so hard that were she holding anything in them at the moment Enishi is sure she would drop the item. Her face is pale, and she appears to be perspiring, although she wasn't just moments ago. Her voice, when she speaks again, is ragged and slightly hoarse.

"I…overreacted…that position…I just…I apologize…"

Enishi is sure of it: Hell has just frozen over.

The woman is apologizing to _him_.

The woman goes back down to her knees, her breath coming in short gasps, and Enishi realizes that there are more pressing matters than the fact that a proverbial miracle has just occurred. The damn woman is having one of her seizures, probably brought on by her panic.

This morning just keeps getting better and better.

Enishi manages to catch the woman before she face-plants in the dirt and sweeps her up to cradle her to his chest, trying to keep a firm hold on her has she spasms. He should take her inside; put her down somewhere soft so she'll wake up later without additional pain. Sighing, Enishi turns and strides back to his mansion, the writhing form of the woman clutched in his arms and a tight-lipped frown on his face.

Damn his luck once again. Now he'll have to wait even longer for his spar.

* * *

When Midori woke, it was to the familiar feeling of having been trampled.

Kenshin, on one of the early days after her return from supposed death at Shishio's hands, had gently questioned Midori about her seizures. He had asked her if she could describe what they felt like. She had thought about it, and told him honestly that the attacks themselves felt rather like someone had cut open her chest and put a few white-hot coals where her heart should be. The aftermath, however, felt much like being trampled upon by an angry mob.

She almost preferred the attacks to the aftermath.

Sitting up slowly, trying to give the room time to stop tilting around her, Midori gave her surroundings a cursory once-over. She was in the room she regularly slept in, laid out atop the bed covers, alone. The door leading to the hallway was closed; the windows leading to the balcony were flung wide open. Her skin felt sticky with dried perspiration; her _hakama_ were coated with dirt from the knees down.

She needed a bath.

Once she managed to stand on her painfully stiff legs, Midori hobbled her way out of the room and down the hall. That was another thing she absolutely hated about these seizures: it always felt like every muscle in her body had gone rigid, making moving a chore until she found some way to loosen them again. A bath would help that, too, but first she would have to make it down the stairs, and that was going to be unpleasant.

She hesitated at the top of the stairs, trying to bolster her flagging will. This was going to really hurt; she was fast coming to the conclusion that she fucking hated stairs, and by extension buildings that contained stairs.

Why did the gods hate her so?

Midori leaned against the wall opposite the balustrade, her sleep-deprived eyes gazing at the seemingly endless expanse of stairs before her. If Kenshin were here, he would be at her side right now. Kenshin would have one arm around her waist to steady her and the other hand wrapped firmly around her elbow. He would ease her down each step with that infinite patience the alternately pissed her off and awed her, and he would softly tell her to take her time. If he were here those stairs would not look like the death of her.

Something wet and cold was sliding down her cheeks, but Midori was too lost in her misery to notice or care.

"Do you actually plan on going down those stairs, woman, or just standing there all day? You are blocking the way."

Slowly, feeling like the movement was more than she could complete, Midori lifted her head and tilted it to the side enough to send Enishi a fleeting glance. She had not heard the man come up to her, but could not find it in herself to care. Midori wondered briefly why Enishi seemed to be so blurry; was there something wrong with her eyesight now? She blinked, and her vision cleared as more cold wetness seeped down her face, and she realized that she was crying.

Wonderful. At this rate, even if she ever got off of this island and away from her captor, she would have not even a shred of pride left to her.

Deciding that the best course of action would be to simply ignore the man currently staring at her, Midori began to slowly ease herself down the stairs. As expected, the muscles in her legs twitched and screamed in protest, shaking violently as Midori forced them to bear her weight. She paused much more often than she would have liked, trying to regulate the pain as best she could and wishing Megumi were with her – the lady doctor would have been massaging Midori's legs, as had become the routine.

During the first six months of her life after Shishio's death, Midori had suffered the crippling seizures and chest pains multiple times a day. Some would last minutes and leave her mildly fatigued; some would last up to an hour, leaving her unconscious for long periods of time afterwards. The more severe attacks always brought bouts of almost arthritic stiffness, both to her joints and to her muscles themselves. Upon learning this, Megumi had gently tried to convince Midori that it might be in her best interest to give up practicing the art of _kenjutsu_ – that she might need to retire her _katana_ permanently or risk becoming crippled for life.

As the doctor had explained all of this, Midori had been plagued by the faint – but all too familiar – sounds of a certain deranged laugh from a certain deceased human torch. Shishio would have found it marvelously amusing that his parting stab at her heart might have taken away such an integral part of Midori's life. Midori had thus thrown a fit of epic proportions, fighting with Megumi and Kenshin both as she flatly refused to put up her _katana_. Her _katana_ could be retired on her deathbed, and no sooner.

So she had continued to practice her Myoushu's style; continued to willingly suffer the seizures and the terrible, painful stiffness after the more severe attacks. Slowly her body had adapted; the seizures became less frequent, the ones she suffered less severe. The agonizing stiffness had nearly vanished altogether, only affecting her once in a great long while. When it did affect her, Megumi would force Midori to allow the doctor to roughly massage her legs from the hips down. Megumi believed that lack of blood flow – cir-ee-lation, as the doctor called it – might have been a contributing factor to the stiffness, and hoped that the massages would help to speed the blood flow since Midori's weakened heart could not do so.

Midori still wasn't one hundred percent sold that the massages did help; all she knew was that they were always very painful and her legs felt like mush for hours after each one.

Now, as she tried hard not to make a sound and alert Enishi to the agony she was currently suffering, Midori thought she would sit through a hundred massages without complaint – if only she could get to the bottom of these damned stairs.

Amazingly, Enishi waited until they had reached the landing that separated the second floor of his mansion to the ground floor before asking, "What's wrong with you, woman?"

Midori was almost panting with the effort to keep herself upright. Her legs were twitching and shaking spasmodically, destroying any semblance of balance left to her and managing to convey a displeasure of being used without any problem whatsoever. It had been some time since Midori last had such a violent reaction to a seizure, and the experience was anything but pleasant.

She ached for Kenshin; he would have taken her into his arms and softly told her that it was going to be alright, that she would not become crippled, that he was there and she was not alone. He would have carried her down the damn stairs if she had asked it of him. He would not be standing by watching with an infuriating look of curiosity on his face as she struggled to shuffle her foot to the edge of the landing and down onto the next step.

_Don't think of him. Ignore the bastard next to you. Think of the waiting bath; of regaining the full use of your body; of being able to properly protect yourself again. Think of the bath. One foot in front of the other. Breath._

It was not a surprise to her when she stumbled. Midori had frankly expected to tumble down most of the stairs, and was faintly amazed that she had managed to make it all the way to the landing without mishap. Obviously, since the gods and fate hated her with such a passion, this luck had to change sometime.

What she had not expected was the arm that shot around her waist and yanked her into the body it was connected to, thus halting her tumble before it had really begun.

The voice in her ear was very, very annoyed.

"What's wrong with you?" Enishi reiterated, failing to release her waist once she was more or less steady on the stair directly below his. "Why can't you walk right?"

"I just had a seizure, you fucking _baka_, why do you think?"

Silence descended upon the pair, one shocked at the agony of the tone which had just been used against him, the other trying not to scream as physical and emotional pain clashed within her. Midori tugged weakly against the arm holding her up, wanting to get away from the man behind her. He was her enemy. He was the one who had taken her away from Kenshin. Megumi was not here because Midori was Enishi's captive. Her friends could not help her when she needed them because of Enishi.

And yet he stood at her back and held her so gently, asking after her as though he had a right to care?

How _dare_ he?

The arm around her waist did not move despite her efforts; the hair upon the back of her neck was stirred as Enishi heaved a sigh.

"Alright," he murmured softly, his tone fueling Midori's anger; why the hell was he speaking to her like that? "Just…lean on me, woman. I will help you down the – oomph!"

He was abruptly cut off by Midori's elbow sinking into his gut. Winded, Enishi's hold on Midori's waist slackened; Midori wasted no time in stumbling away from him and down the remainder of the stairs. It hurt, of course, but her rising fury gave her the necessary endurance to ignore the pain as she wobbly stalked away from him.

She had to pause at the doorway leading out to the back of the mansion, leaning against the frame as spasms shook her legs to an alarming degree. Her chest felt tight and heavy; breathing was difficult, as though she stood in a cloud of smoke. This too was normal, after a really awful fit; it would pass in time, but until it did she was going to be somewhat weaker than usual.

Which was why, a second later when a large hand grabbed her by the back of her _gi_ and hauled her backwards, she thought that she might possibly be in trouble.

"I do not appreciate being assaulted when all I was doing was trying to help you," Enishi ground out; by twisting in his grip, Midori was able to see that he had his teeth pressed tightly together, as though trying to refrain from yelling at her. A vein was throbbing somewhat ominously in his left temple.

"I fail to see why I should care," was Midori's sneered reply. She tried to walk onwards, only to be stopped by a tug at the back of her gi that had her scrambling to balance before she could fall. Glaring at Enishi over her shoulder, Midori let her lip curl up into a snarl that she was hoping would scare the shit out of the white-haired man.

"Let go of me, Yukishiro," she barked tiredly, aware that the tiredness would lessen the impact of her order to almost nothing. "I don't want your help. I want a bath. Leave me alone."

"Then I'll walk you to the bath house, you stubborn old nag," Enishi snapped right back, ignoring her command and trying to push her gently forward with his hand on her back. "You're tottering around here like a crippled old woman; I don't want to have to deal with you if you fall between here and your precious bath and split that thick head open."

He had spread his hand out so that it rested flat on her back, in between her shoulder blades. Midori could feel the warmth of his skin, even through the gi and her layer of bandages. She shivered involuntarily and sped up as much as her legs would allow her in an attempt to dislodge his hand. She failed; Enishi merely lengthened his strides to keep pace with her, his customary scowl etched firmly upon his face.

"You've never been like this after any of your other little episodes," he muttered, something almost accusing in his voice – like Midori's current predicament was all her fault, and Enishi was unable to believe just how stupid she was. "Are you just acting like this because you don't want to spar with me, woman? Because I would never have pegged you for a coward."

…_Why_ did he get such satisfaction out of baiting her?

"If I agree to spar with you tomorrow, will you shut up and leave me in peace for the remainder of the day?" Midori groused, begrudgingly conceding defeat in their on-going battle. He had been pestering her for a week to agree to a rematch with him, and until now she had brushed him off. However, if agreeing to spar with him the next day would shut him up and get him to go away for the rest of the day, she would do so.

She did not want to deal with him today.

Enishi considered; his dark eyes narrowed in contemplation for a long moment, before he nodded once in agreement.

"I suppose that's fair trade," he admitted, as the bath house came into view ahead of them. "I'll leave you at the bath house door, and collect you from the kitchen tomorrow morning for our spar. And I want you to actually answer my questions tomorrow, woman; I need some conversation to keep from dying of boredom, and you are slightly more interesting than Heishin."

"Fine," Midori muttered, aware that it sounded like she was sulking but not particularly caring. She felt as if she had just lost at something; she could sulk a little if she felt like it. She consoled herself with the knowledge that she had just bought herself a whole afternoon, evening, and night of complete privacy; Enishi habit of stalking her around the island grated heavily on her nerves, and the prospect of not having to put up with it for the rest of today cheered her ever so slightly.

She would still be in pain and still feel like shit and still miss Kenshin with a burning, agonizing intensity, but at least she would be allowed to suffer in privacy.

When the pair finally reached the bath house, Midori waited none too patiently for Enishi to get his hand off of her back and go away like he had said he would. To her immense shock, the man actually moved his hand up to her left shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze – apparently ignoring the fact that Midori had gone stiff as a board at his action.

"I'm…sorry about earlier," he muttered, and it sounded as though it were costing Enishi something very dear to force the words past his lips. "I was goading you on purpose. I hate him…he ruined my life…he _murdered_ my _onee_-_sama_...and you…you just…"

The words stopped; Midori was certain it was due to Enishi not knowing how to explain his actions in words he felt that she would understand. Oddly enough, she knew that feeling; how do you explain the ease with which you can take a life to someone who has spent the last decade mentally torturing himself for doing just that? She was therefore unsurprised when the hand suddenly disappeared from her shoulder, and did not look back to watch Enishi stalk back towards his mansion.

Some things just were not meant to be watched.

* * *

A/N: Please review.


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

_The last time she beheld the hut before her she had been four years old._

_That is twenty years in the past._

_The woman without an identity is hesitating. She has been standing in a cluster of trees twenty meters from the hut for the past two hours. It is raining heavily and she is soaked to the bone. There is a light flickering in a poorly cut window in the side of the hut's south wall. Light means warmth and dryness, but still the woman hesitates._

_Memories, faint and long-suppressed, are battering at the insides of her skull. A dilemma is swirling around in her mind, and she is unsure of the correct path. Should she approach the hut, ask for shelter for the night? Should she just stay where she is? Should she leave?_

_Why is she even here in the first place?_

_They might not live here anymore. They might have moved away or died. She could go up to the door, knock, and politely request shelter form total strangers instead of the couple she has searched for. She might be agonizing like this out in the pouring rain for no reason at all…_

_But what if there __**is**__ reason?_

_What if one of __**them**__ opens the door and somehow recognizes her?_

_Another hour comes and goes before the woman finally moves. Slowly, as though she is pushing against some greater force intent on shoving her away, the woman approaches the little hut she has been watching all this time. Even as the space between her and the hut grows smaller, the woman is debating running. Even as her feet come to a stop before the door, she considers her rapidly shrinking options. And as her hand reaches forward and knocks on that door, the woman curses herself for a fool. _

_But it is not until the door to the hut the woman was born in opens and an aged, stooped man stands before her that the woman knows she has made a grave mistake._

"_Konbanwa? May I help you, okami?"_

_The woman stares at the aged figure of her father and prays to the gods for strength._

* * *

She came to him every night, asleep or awake.

She would not speak to him.

Kenshin huddled over his bent knees, on the ground with his back against a crumbling wall, and tried not to look at her. He knew she was not real, he knew she was not truly there; this was just a figment of his imagination, a personification of his crushing guilt. This was not her presence come to haunt or soothe him, as Tomoe had done in the past. This did not feel like her.

That did not make it any less agonizing.

She stood directly in front of him, her unsheathed _katana_ clenched in her hand, her feet braced as though to defend herself. She stood with her back facing him, refusing to allow him to see her face. It might have been more bearable, had he been able to see her face and read the expressions there.

But he did not deserve to see her face. Not even in his imagination. Even the sight of her back was too good for him.

He had failed her, after all. She had died because of him.

Just like Tomoe.

* * *

Sano stared at the man across from him, shock and hope flooding his system as he processed the man's words. Had he just heard that right, or was the noise from the bar messing with his head?

"What'd you just say?"

Across from him, Chou Sawagejo rolled his eyes to the poorly lit ceiling and heaved a long-suffering sigh.

"I said that yer little panther bitch ain't dead, rooster. Do you wanna come with us to get her back or not? Saito ain't gonna stall the police goin' after that Yukishiro bastard forever. Hurry up and make up yer mind so's we can get goin'."

Sano continued to stare.

"Just pay yer fuckin' tab and let's go already, ya dumbass!"

* * *

He sits in his cell, his back hunched so that his head does not strike the ceiling. Outside of this cell, police officers scurry down the hall in a bid to be near him for as little time as possible. They fear him; he can smell it wafting from their skins.

_She_ did not fear him.

They have locked him here in this tiny cell. They have taken away his cannon. They want to make him harmless so that they will fear him less.

_She_ cut a cannon ball he fired at her in half. _She_ knocked him out with the cannon still attached to his arm. _She_ did not fear him.

This is not the way it is supposed to be. He was not supposed to be defeated by a woman. He should be the victor – and his opponent should have been the Battousai. His honor as a warrior should be restored – not further tarnished. He is disgraced.

That woman has disgraced him.

_She_ has disgraced him!

_He is disgraced!_

_**"AAAAARRRRGGG!**** ZETSUMEI KUROHYOU!"**_

* * *

Yahiko lay in the bed in the back room of the clinic, listening to Tsubame's trembling voice to his left and trying really _really_ hard not to cry. Men didn't cry. He was a man. He was not going to cry. Like hell was he going to cry when his sensei was sitting in the same room with him; true, Kaoru's eyes were glued out the window and she looked liked she had recently been bawling herself, but still. It was the principle of the thing.

"I t-t-tried to f-find Kenshin-san, Yahiko-kun, I tried –"

So what if he had just woken up in a freaking bed when the last thing he remembered was a smart-ass remark in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Saito's and a sharp pain in the back of his head?

"He…I don't even know if he realized I was there…I told him you needed his help and he didn't even move…"

So what if every inch of his body hurt because he'd been pounded on by that one-armed samurai?

"I tried to tell him…I told him you were alone and getting hurt…"

So what if Kenshin had abandoned him, _again_?

"…I…I told him about Midori-san…that she was a-a-alive…b-but he just…"

Who cared? None of that crap mattered. Nothing mattered anymore. Forget Kenshin. Yahiko didn't need him. Yahiko was going to save Midori alone if he had to. He was going to bring her home and take her to where Kenshin was sulking and watch with a giant smile on his face as Midori beat the shit out of the redhead.

And he _wasn't_ going to cry, godsdamnit. He wasn't. Those weren't tears in his eyes!

It was just allergies.

* * *

Midori's nose was bleeding – heavily – and she was just left of extremely pissed off.

Any sane person would have been running away in terror at the look on her blood-smeared face as she forced the cartilage to correctly realign and snapped her head around in search of her fucking piece of wo – _bokken_. Her fucking worthless _bokken_ that she would have given anything to exchange for a _katana_ at that moment. She wanted to kill her sparring partner, and she was fairly sure that even with her immensely impressive kenjutsu skills she wouldn't be able to do so with a damn _bokken_.

Mores' the pity.

"Planning on killing me with this now?" Enishi Yukishiro taunted as he placed a booted foot on the desired implement of torture that Midori had dropped after being _kicked_ in the _face_ by a _boot_. Damn; she had planned to grab it and stick the chunk of wood in a very uncomfortable place. She wasn't usually one to go for a groin shot – not even a stabbed artery was worth that level of heartlessness in regards to her male enemies – but right that moment she was seriously considering ways to castrate the Yukishiro man and stuff his male organ down his throat.

She knew this spar agreement was going to end up being a bad idea; she just hadn't expected the fucking bastard to cheat like this.

"You said you wanted to _spar_," she spat at him, wiping her face on her _gi_ sleeve in an effort to clear it of blood. "Not _brawl_."

"Oh, I'm sorry," – and he was _not_ standing there mocking her while she tried to stop her recently broken nose from bleeding, godsdamnit – "I didn't realize this would be too much for you to handle. Shall I go easy on you, Zetsumei Kurohyou?"

The sound of her title from Enishi's lips made Midori's gut cramp uncomfortably. She thought she might actually prefer to be reduced to 'woman' rather than to hear her title again. Giving up on her nose, Midori smoothly crossed the floor back to Enishi and crouched to retrieve her _bokken_. Enishi removed his foot and stepped away as she rose.

"I expected you to dodge," he muttered, now sounding almost repentant. His mood swings as of late were enough to give Midori a headache; Enishi had more mood swings a day than Midori, and _Midori_ was the woman for _kami's_ sake. "I didn't expect you to freeze up and stand there like a fool. All I said was that you have pretty eyes."

And his mission to make her supremely uncomfortable as many times as possible in the course of a day via random compliments was driving her insane. She just knew he was doing this on purpose to throw her off balance as much as possible so he could pull shit like that unexpected kick he had just used to break her fucking nose. That was what she considered _cheating_.

Aside from which, Midori absolutely _loathed_ her eyes.

"Spars do not require talking," she replied frostily – or as frostily as she could while trying not to get blood from her nose in her mouth as she spoke.

Enishi snorted, twirling his _bokken_ idly in his large hand. "Pity. I was going to ask if you ever tried distracting the targets of your assassinations with your beauty, but I guess you don't feel like conversation at the moment."

She was _not_ going to blush. She didn't care what the crazy bastard thought of her physical appearance. Only Kenshin's opinion was important in that area, and this man was most certainly not Kenshin.

Enough was enough. If Enishi was just going to stand there, Midori would force him to shut up and fight. He was the one who had wanted this spar so badly; so now he was going to spar. _Spar_, not kick her in the face, damnit. She crouched for a split second before lunging, staying low with every intention of bashing him in the knee.

His foot shot out again; Midori was forced to plant her hands on the floor in front of her and fling herself backwards to avoid another kick. Coming up on her feet, she brought her _bokken_ up to block Enishi's jab to her ribs, annoyed to note that he was quite obviously going easy on her. Pivoting, she flowed along the length of Enishi's sword arm before the man could retract it and got around behind him, swinging her weapon to his unguarded left side. Her assault was blocked – barely – and Midori leapt back to put space between them before Enishi could attack her.

When Enishi turned, grinned, and swung his _bokken_ up to rest over the back of his neck and shoulders, Midori tensed. Almost instantly Enishi moved, surging towards her with mind-boggling speed. His _bokken_ swung around in a long arc, aiming for her head and closing the distance so fast Midori felt the air displacement even as she bent herself backwards at the waist to avoid the powerful blow. Bringing her upper body forward after Enishi's arm had cleared her, Midori attempted to stab her opponent hard in the side while his arm was still carrying through with its swing.

She froze with her _bokken's_ tip scant centimeters from his side.

The _bokken_ in front of her neck was what stopped her.

"Impressive," that taunting, arrogant, _annoying_ bastard mused; his voice was somehow very close to her ear, and Midori realized with a jolt that Enishi was bending his upper body over her. Straining to see out of the corner of her eye, she scowled in irritation at the sight of his hand holding the _bokken's_ hilt so that the 'blade' was pointing towards his body – and therefore Midori – instead of away. He must have realized what she was planning to try and flipped his weapon after it cleared her backward-bowed form.

The _bokken_ in front of her neck skimmed against her flesh unexpectedly, making her flinch. Soft chuckles rumbled from the chest before her, and a glance at Enishi's face revealed that he was smirking. Very deliberately, he waggled his white brows at her as he slowly slid his _bokken_ back and forth across the skin of her throat.

"Sensitive?" he whispered, using that godsdamned _flustering_ tone he had taken to teasing her with. Like the tone a lover would use; supremely unfit for a kidnapper and mentally insane swordsman like Enishi to use on his hostage. He seemed to delight in using that voice in his mostly one-sided conversations; Midori strongly suspected that he enjoyed trying to make her uncomfortable enough to blush.

Like she was doing right now.

Damn him.

"Move," she commanded in a brusque tone, pissed that she had been forced into a draw and well beyond uncomfortable with his extreme proximity.

Enishi did not appear to have heard her; his black eyes were narrowed, attention fixed on her face but not on _her_. "You're still bleeding."

He was right. Her nose was still leaking scarlet liquid from both nostrils. Midori was sure that were she to examine the floor of Enishi's dojo, she would find spatters of blood in the areas over which they had just moved. Strangely, she had forgotten all about her injury once she had lunged at Enishi the first time. Her mind had been solely focused on defeating her opponent.

Leave it to Enishi to kick her in the face hard enough to break her nose; have a quick spar with her that completely took her mind of the pain; and then point out the physical site of that pain so that it would return with a vengeance. She would have preferred if he had just moved.

"Move," she repeated, shifting against his stupid _bokken_ to jab him in the abdomen with her elbow. He stepped to the side, removing his _bokken_ from her neck much slower than necessary. Midori took several strides away from him before turning to face him again. She crouched, _bokken_ held defensively across her body.

"Come," she beckoned softly, her voice hissing out into the quiet of the dojo. They were not finished; not by a long shot.

Hell, she hadn't even made him bleed yet.

The frustration, anger, and sense of abandonment Midori had been suffocating under for days spurred her on; for hours she and Enishi pounded each other up and down the length of his dojo.

_Why am I still here?_

Midori winced, grunting as Enishi struck her sharply on the hip. She slid away and leapt into the air, flipping midair over her opponent and pulling a move that would have taken his head off had she been using her actual _katana_. Instead she had to be content with the exclamation of pain that was issued as she landed heavily on her feet and pivoted to block Enishi's counter.

_Where are you?_

As he had done numerous times before, Enishi immediately used his superior strength and weight to push her backwards, her tabi sliding easily across the highly polished floor of the dojo. To her surprise, however, Enishi did not simply thrust her away and resume his attack; he continued to propel her backwards until her back collided with the wall. There he held her, his body positioned to cut off any routes of escape, his heavy breathing fanning over her face. Both of them were panting raggedly from the exertion of their duel; sweat dripped from both bodies as they regarded one another.

_Kenshin. Ninjin. Where are you?_

"I think we've been at this long enough," Enishi murmured, his voice strangely soft as he continued to block her from moving.

"Very well. Move. We are finished."

Midori waited for him to get out of the way, waited for the _bokken_ currently crushing her solar plexus to be removed. When he failed to react and simply leaned more heavily on her, Midori narrowed her eyes at him in a threatening manner. What was he playing at? He had said that he wanted to stop their spar, so why was he not backing down? He simply stared at her from too close a distance, his dark eyes flitting from her face to her hair to her neck and down.

"Yukishiro," Midori barked, annoyed that he was still pinning her and uncomfortable with his scrutiny. "Move."

Enishi flinched, his face taking on a startled expression; it was as though he were waking from a daydream. He dropped his sword arm and stepped away, tossing his _bokken_ to the side as he did so. His hands came up to sweep through his sweat damp hair, resulting in the white locks looking even more disheveled than usual. There was a haze over his eyes; it was as though he were looking at her from behind a veil.

"_Gomen_," he muttered, diverting his gaze until he appeared to be staring at the floor.

Cautiously, Midori edged away from the wall, dropping her own _bokken_ and bringing an arm up to swipe at the sweaty face. A bolt of pain from her nose reminded her of Enishi's cheap shot earlier; she was annoyed when her arm came away from her face with a fresh coating of scarlet. She was sick to death of appearing weak around her captor.

"I am going to bathe," she grumbled, stalking stiffly past Enishi towards the dojo's doors. "I understand that you have questions for me, and I will answer them later in accordance with yesterdays' agreement. But if you bother me while I am bathing I'll kill you."

She didn't see the need to let him know that as she was now, she could not kill him. She could wound him, maim him, cause a lot of excruciating pain; but if how Enishi spars was anything to go by, in a fight to the death he would come out the victor. With her mind so far away, and her soul screaming for the one she loved…

She was vulnerable. She was weak.

"Hm. I see the Boss's little…pet is looking the worse for wear this afternoon."

She was _not_ in the mood to deal with the owner of that slimy, oily voice that had just assaulted her ears.

She had reached the front foyer of Enishi's mansion when those words were spoken. A tilt of the head revealed the speaker descending the stairs, surrounded as always by his four identical bodyguards. The smirk upon Heishin's face was most unpleasant to behold.

She had hoped to avoid another confrontation with this rat, after Enishi's meltdown the day he learned that she had been poisoned. She had hoped that fear of his 'boss' would keep Heishin as far from Midori as possible. Apparently, however, the gods really and truly did hate Midori with unbridled passion.

Wonderful.

"What's the matter, pet? No witty retort now that Boss is not here to protect you?" Heishin asked rather silkily; that tone in his voice made Midori's skin crawl.

She was in the process of opening her mouth to tell the Chinese rat bastard exactly how many ways she could kill him with her bare hands when it happened.

Her chest suddenly tightened, and her hands began to tremble.

She was about to have a seizure.

Fuck.

Stumbling backwards as her legs began to shake, Midori barely managed to hobble out of the house again and make it to the cover of the trees before her muscles seized. Pitching forward, her vision flashing black as pain screamed through her body, she just barely registered the figured hurtling after her before her senses betrayed her. In an instant she was lost to the agony.

_Kenshin isn't here. Kenshin has abandoned me._

Hands touched her, jerking her over to lay on her back as her body spasmed. The bone-deep torture intensified, and a howling scream cut across the island.

_I forgave him for trying to kill me. I comforted him at the loss of his wife. I stayed with him because he wanted me to. I was stabbed in the heart protecting him. And he has left me here for all this time._

Unheard, unnoticed, and soon to be much mourned, something deep inside Midori – something fragile and frail and extremely frayed around the edges – suddenly snapped.

_Battousai has abandoned me. Again._

_I'll kill him._

* * *

Though he would rather cut out his tongue than admit it aloud to the woman, Enishi is somewhat uncomfortable around her now. After their second spar and her following episode, the woman has developed a rather…intimidating aura that seems to emanate from her without conscious effort. Something has changed in her, and Enishi is not certain he likes this change.

Amazingly, she has opened up to him. In the past two days she has answered nearly every question he has put to her without a fuss – except for the inquiries about her given name or the family of her birth, which she continues to flatly refuse to discuss. He knows that her master and father-figure was murdered by members of the Shinsengumi, and that his death propelled her into joining the Ishin Shishi. He knows that before being bought by said master, the woman was a slave for roughly three years; she was sold often, her owners fearing a child with such unnaturally green eyes.

He knows that her title, Zetsumei Kurohyou, was indeed bestowed upon her by the Shinsengumi during the Bakumatsu; she says that it was picked up by her allies, who despised her for her sex and for her skills. When he asked her about the scars covering her back and dotting her body, she replied calmly but shortly that the hatred of her allies had run very deep. He had wisely dropped that line of questioning.

She had been short with him again when his questions had strayed rather close to the subject of the Battousai; a look had come over her face, one he has not seen before and does not particularly want to see again. From what little she has said on the subject, Enishi has gathered that she met Battousai and became friends with him during the Bakumatsu because literally ever other male ally she possessed was terrified or scornful of her.

She will not discuss Makoto Shishio with him; not yet. When he had asked, a closed expression had appeared on her face and she had walked away from him, disappearing for several hours only to return in time to prepare an evening meal. He wonders what her feelings for the maniac had consisted of; had some part of her loved him, in spite of his obvious madness? Had love, however twisted, played a part in her decision to save his life after Shishio was doused in oils and set afire?

So many questions. So many things Enishi wants to know about her. What foods does she prefer? What type of cloth? Why only black clothing? What is her favorite time of year? What is her relationship with that loud-mouth, Sagara? Does she enjoy poetry? Music? So many seemingly frivolous questions that Enishi is eager to answer.

_Onee-sama. Does this make you happy? This…feeling of wanting to know her?_

He frowns to himself, the unease he has felt around the woman for the last two days sweeping over him even though he is currently alone. What has brought about this new openness? Why is she suddenly so willing to answer questions? What has caused that nearly uncaring tone of voice that the woman has been using constantly?

From where he sits on the balcony, a slight noise to his left catches Enishi's attention. Squinting into the darkness of the night, he is barely able to discern a figure as it vaults over the railing of the balcony and disappears into the blackness of the trees. His eyebrows rise; that is the direction of the woman's room. It is extremely late; apparently her nightmares have woken her again. Curious as to where she could be going, Enishi decides to follow her and rises from his seat.

He finds her on the beach; her bare feet at the edge of the surf so that the tide washes over them, her legs hugged tightly to her chest and her chin resting atop her knees. She does not acknowledge him as he folds himself to sit cross-legged at her side; she merely hugs her legs tighter and gazes with dull eyes at the moonlight waters of the ocean before her. Enishi examines her face as well as he can, startled to see tear tracks down her cheek. Is she _crying_?

Yes, definitely nightmares again.

"When are you going to stop being so stubborn and just accept the damn sleeping medicine?" Enishi mutters, uncomfortable with the sight of her tears. This woman is not one to cry easily; he has only witnessed the phenomenon once before, that first night she woke him up with her screaming. Seeing her cry now bothers him immensely and he has no idea what to do.

The woman stirs slightly next to him, shifting where she sits and raising her head so that it no longer rests on her knees. Her voice, when she speaks, is still dead and cold and utterly calm; just as it has been for the past two days.

"I have used sleeping medicine before," she tells him quietly, her gaze still fixed resolutely in front of her. "During the war, after my…allies…displayed their hatred for me."

She pauses, and Enishi knows not to interrupt. He stays silent, waiting for her to continue, giving her the time to gather herself and her thoughts.

"The medicine worked well. I took it, as my superiors and the Chosu clan's doctor had ordered me to do, and almost immediately fell into a deep sleep. Everyone thought that the medicine was helping me, giving me the rest that I had been missing since my…betrayal.

"They were not aware that I was still having terrifying nightmares, or that the medicine was preventing me from waking."

Enishi watches her face as she tells him this, hoping for some insight into what this story causes her to feel, to think. It is a useless hope; her face is closed to him. All he can do is listen.

"When I did wake, I was still dreaming. I could not distinguish dream from reality. I attacked all around me, striking out at real and imagined men with no thought but to protect myself. I heard voices that were not there, felt blows that were not given. Even awake, I was trapped in my nightmares. My superiors were forced to order that I be restrained until I could regain my senses.

"I do not wish to repeat that experience. Please stop offering me that medicine."

Enishi nods, now understanding the source of her stubbornness. To be trapped in his own head, held hostage by the demons that haunt his own subconscious, is not something Enishi would wish upon anyone.

Well, Battousai, of course, but not the woman.

The woman sighs, releasing her tight hold upon her legs and bringing both of her hands up to scrub at her face, wiping the tear tracks away. Her head turns, and Enishi finds himself peering into dull emeralds ringed with black bags.

"After Makoto Shishio became my partner, he found me one night in the room where we took our meals, asleep in a corner. He roused me from a nightmare. Every night after that, when our assassinations were finished and we were free to rest, Shishio would come and sleep outside of my door. I think he enjoyed listening to the sounds of my suffering."

Her head tilts so that it is cocked to the side.

"Does that sound like the action of someone who is in love, Yukishiro? Or does it sound more like the action of someone obsessed with what they cannot have?"

Enishi stares at her, remembering their conversation of five days previous.

_Didn't he love you?_

_I am not intimately aware of the workings of an insane mind, so I cannot answer the question of whether or not Shishio loved me. _

So many strange things he is learning about this woman. To be the object of amorous obsession for one such as Makoto Shishio and come away from that with nothing more than a weakened heart is amazing. Her strength is amazing.

_She_ is amazing.

He shrugs in answer to her inquiry, choosing not to answer verbally. He will never know if Shishio loved Zetsumei Kurohyou. Perhaps the woman is right, and it was merely a severe form of obsession. Perhaps she is wrong, and Shishio really and truly did love her. Only Shishio knows the answer to that question, and he is currently somewhere in the realms of Hell.

Oh, well.

"Love is not meant for people like me," the woman whispers suddenly. Enishi stares at her as she turns her head away again, gazing at the ocean even as fresh tears begin to spill down her cheeks. "Demons are not meant to have that precious bond."

The woman truly thinks of herself as a demon?

How terribly…sad.

Slowly, unsure of himself and half-expecting the woman to strike him for his actions, Enishi edges closer to her until he is pressed up against her side. Cautiously, he wraps his arm around her back, drawing her still closer and offering what comfort he can. She stiffens, and Enishi finds himself hurrying to speak before she can jerk herself away.

"Don't," he says, pulling her even closer until he is breathing in the scent of her hair. "Don't pull away. Just…let me help you. Just…just sit here…sit here and accept my comfort, woman."

For a long, long moment, the woman does not move; she neither relaxes nor pulls away. At last, all of the strength seems to seep out of her body at once, and suddenly Enishi finds himself holding a sobbing woman as she goes limp against him. Her tears fall in trails from her cheek to his chest, and Enishi wraps his other arm around her front and all but plasters the woman to his side.

They sit that way for a long time, the woman sobbing hard into Enishi's tunic and Enishi holding her so tightly against her that they appear to have fused into each other. They sit that way until the woman literally passes out from exhaustion; at which point Enishi stands, picks the woman up to cradle her gently against his chest, and carries her back to his mansion – where he immediately puts her in her bed, closing her balcony windows before leaving the room and closing her door softly behind him. Hopefully, her exhaustion will be so great that her brain will spare her the nightmares for the remainder of the night.

Gods know she can obviously use the uninterrupted sleep.

* * *

It is late the next afternoon that Heishin finds Enishi in his office, once more attempting to sort through the tedious paperwork that came with the running of the Chinese mafia.

"Boss, I think you should come down to the beach. There is a ship approaching. Our spies tell me that the Battousai is supposed to be on board, and that he is coming to reclaim that woman."

* * *

A/N: Please review.


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

"_Do you regret our reunion?"_

_Midori looks up from where she sits on the edge of the porch cleaning her katana, her back against a support beam and her legs stretched out in front of her. Kenshin is standing by her feet, his own blade at his hip, his long red bangs shadowing his face so that she cannot see his expression._

"_Why would I?" she asks, keeping her voice low; it is midday, and although Yahiko and Kaoru are currently beating each other in the training dojo and Sanosuke is nowhere to be seen, she doubts this will be a conversation Kenshin will want anyone to overhear._

_One eyebrow slowly begins to ascend towards her hairline as Kenshin proceeds to remove his sakabatou and place it out of the way; sit down; and then pick up her feet and scoot his body over, so that when he lowers her feet, they rest in his lap. As though this is not strange enough, Midori watches without a word as Kenshin removes the sandals and tabi adorning her feet; sets them aside; and then begins to massage Midori's feet, all the while steadfastly refusing to meet her eyes._

_It is some time before he speaks again, addressing his words to her feet as he does so._

"_Do you know what day it is today, kabu?"_

_Midori nods but says nothing, suddenly finding herself mute in the face of her admission. Yes, she knows what day it is._

_Eleven years ago today, she was betrayed by her only friend._

_Eleven years ago today, she was stabbed through the chest and left as dead by the man currently holding her feet gently in his hands._

_Yes, she knows what day it is._

"_I never understood why it was made to be so…public," she hears herself say, shocking herself as the words spill from her mouth without conscious volition. "Why didn't they just order you to kill me in private one night when you came to drink with me? Why the story of my betrayal? I killed quite a number of men that day, men that did not need to die but fell attacking me. Why did our superiors sacrifice them when I could have been killed with much less…collateral?"_

_She realizes that she is in danger of babbling, and that Kenshin is staring at her with eyes heavily flecked with amber. She promptly shuts her mouth and averts her face, staring at her hands were they lay fisted in her lap._

"_Sorry," she mutters, embarrassed by her outburst._

_Kenshin merely squeezes her feet gently, his thumbs rubbing circles into the soles._

_Midori lifts her head slightly, regarding him from behind her bangs. "Is this the part where you beg my forgiveness or the part where you ask me if I still blame you?"_

_Kenshin merely smiles that sad, gentle smile she is still trying to become accustomed with. She kicks him lightly in the abdomen, shaking her head at him in mock consternation._

"_What is it with you, that you must hold on to the deeds you most regret until they eat away at your soul?" she whispers._

"_I don't deserve your forgiveness. I don't deserve your love."_

_Another light kick. "Don't start that shit again, ninjin. We've had this conversation already."_

_Indeed, they have had this conversation. Numerous times. When she had returned to him, as though from the dead, Kenshin had tried to distance himself from her. He had avoided her, adopted the overly polite manner of speaking that he uses with everyone else when speaking to her and treating her much the same as he treats Megumi or Kaoru. Midori had been at a loss to understand his distant treatment of her – which seemed exceptionally hypocritical when one considered that they had made love in a hot springs or that she had saved his life. He had acted as though they barely knew one another, and it had taken a few weeks before she had realized what he was doing._

_The jackass had been trying to distance himself from her to keep her safe._

_Her reaction to that realization had been more than sufficient to snap him out of that in a hurry._

_His hands tickle her as he withdraws them from her feet, standing suddenly and dislodging her legs from his lap. She adjusts her position until her feet rest on the ground, her body turned so that she might watch him as he paces in front of her._

"_How can you forgive me?" he murmurs, clenching his hands into fists at his side as he sweeps up and down the small splotch of courtyard. "You trusted me, and I betrayed you. I drove you into the arms of a madman. I nearly __**killed**__ you. __**How**__ can you ever possibly forgive me?"_

"_I do not ask myself that question," Midori replies softly, her eyes tracking his agitated movements. "I simply choose to forgive you. I choose to love you and choose to stay here with you. I do not ask myself whether my choice is wise or right or good for me. That does not matter. I am happy with my choice, be it foolish or wrong or unhealthy to the extreme. It's still my choice to make, ninjin, and I am happy with it. I am happy with you."_

_Kenshin turns and comes to her, putting his arms around her where she sits and bending slightly to rest his head on her shoulder. With a sigh, Midori's arms wrap tightly around his waist; her face is soon buried in his abdomen. Neither says a word for a long moment._

"_You love me, kabu?"_

"_Yes, ninjin."_

"_Can you forgive me?"_

"_I have already done so. You are the one who must forgive yourself."_

_She feels him shudder against her; his arms pull her closer._

"_I love you, Midori," he whispers into her ear._

"_I know."_

"_I love you more than my own life. I will never betray you again. I swear it."_

_There is only the slightest of hesitations before Midori answers, "I know. I trust you, Kenshin._

"_I trust you."_

* * *

Enishi finds the woman sitting at the table in his kitchen, sipping a steaming cup of tea and looking like she has been to Hell and back since last night. He closes the door behind him and leans on it, effectively gaining her attention as he blocks one of only two exits from the room.

"What do you want?" she asks, and it takes an extraordinary amount of will not to flinch at her voice. Gods, how Enishi despises that tone. He wants to kill it. He wants to put some life back into the woman's voice.

"There is a ship approaching the harbor," he tells her quietly, watching intently as she lifts the cup of tea towards her mouth. "Battousai is on the ship."

The cup freezes.

In the next second the cup is shattering on the floor of the kitchen and the woman is in Enishi's face, her eyes alive again even as she curls her fingers into his tunic-front. She pulls herself so close to Enishi that he can feel her breath on his face and whispers, "Himura?"

"Yes."

She stares at him; Enishi gets the distinct impression that the woman is trying to decide whether or not he is lying to her. He holds himself very still, absorbing the warmth from her body, reveling in the unintentional closeness while she deliberates. He wants to put his arms around her and draw her closer. He wants to see what she tastes like.

"Himura is coming here?"

He wants to kill the Battousai for being the reason life has returned to her voice.

"Yes," he repeats, and it is only through the greatest struggle with his control that he manages not to snarl the word. He has never seen her like this. Her pale face is practically glowing with happiness just because that murdering bastard will be here soon. Why has he never seen this look? Why has he never been able to put this look on her face, when the mere mention of the Battousai brings it out full force?

When her fingers release his front and she turns – probably to bolt out the back door and make a beeline to the beach to wait on her precious Battousai – Enishi reacts to the loss of contact without thought. All he knows is that she isn't touching him anymore, and he wants contact. He wants her to touch him.

Which is why he darts forward and wraps his arms around her the way he wanted to moments ago, pulling her gently but firmly backwards until her back presses against him chest.

The woman immediately goes still, standing rigid against him. Enishi hurries to reassure her before she can begin to panic.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he blurts out, tightening his grip on her ever-so-slightly. "I just want…I just…"

What is he supposed to say? That he doesn't want her to leave? That he doesn't want her on the beach because he has every intention of doing his best to kill the Battousai? That he has grown…attached to her?

She would not pay any attention to any of that. She does not care what he wants. She will fight him tooth and nail to protect the Battousai, here or on the beach when he arrives. She will doubtlessly be disgusted by his…attachment.

Resigned, he slowly releases her and steps away, averting his face when she turns to look at him. He's pretty sure that if she gets a look at his eyes, the woman will guess about half of what he can't bring himself to tell her. He can't allow that. He can't take the rejection.

He can't handle having another woman he cares for choose the Battousai over him.

"If you want your _katana_ back," he murmurs, annoyed with himself for being unable to speak strongly at the moment, "come with me. The Battousai will not be here for another hour at least. There is still time."

And with that, he strolls up to the door he'd been leaning on moments ago, yanks it open, and stomps out of the kitchen. He can tell by the sound of her footsteps that the woman is right behind him. He doesn't turn to see her, doesn't say anything else as they walk up the stairs and down the hall leading to his room. He forces himself not to reach back for her when he strolls into his room and her footsteps stop at the doorway.

At the foot of his bed, Enishi hesitates. Is this really such a good idea? She hates him. She has good reason to want him dead. His weapon is in his office. Should he really give the woman her _katana_ now?

Hell with it. He's sparred with her enough to get a general grasp on her technique, and he is still the faster; if she does attack, he will simply dodge until he can subdue her.

So decided, Enishi drops to his knees before lowering himself to his belly. He quickly slithers beneath his bed, his hands searching until he presses down on a floorboard and it pops up slightly. Moving the board out of his way, Enishi inserts his arm into the empty space and feels around blindly for the object within. His questing fingers close over cool leather, and a moment later he is once again standing at the foot of his bed, the woman's _katana_ clutched in one hand.

He faces her slowly, his gaze taking in her stiff stance; she is holding herself back from rushing forward and snatching her weapon from him. He assumes she only resists such an action because doing so would bring her into his bedroom. Because he is in a particularly black mood – and is more than tired of her insinuation that he will eventually try to rape her – Enishi promptly sits on the foot of his bed and moves the _katana_ so that he is cradling it in his lap. He lets a nasty smirk pull up his lips and attempts to leer at the woman in his doorway.

"Well, come in, woman," he says, waving her over with one hand in a rather demeaning gesture. "I thought you wanted this back."

Quick as thought the woman is shooting towards him, hand outstretched to rip the _katana_ from his grasp. Enishi effortlessly moves so that the blade is just out of her reach; if she wants it she will have to splay herself across his torso to grab it. Enishi figures there is as great a chance of that happening as there is of his hair returning to its former color. Sure enough, the woman stops a foot away from him; she eyes him murderously but makes no move to come closer.

"Why is this thing so important to you?" he asks, completely ignoring the look she is giving him; after so many weeks in her company, Enishi has grown immune to such looks. Apparently the woman has not yet figured that out.

"It was my Myoushu's," she snaps, plainly irritated that he is continuing to deny her access to her weapon. "It's all I have left of him, and I will get it back with or without your consent. No one will ever take my _katana_ from me."

Enishi watches her through narrowed eyes as his mind processes the words she has spoken. That's it? The only reason she cares so much about this blade is because it was once her master's? That does not make sense to Enishi. The man in question was the woman's owner, wasn't he? She was his slave, was she not? Why does she care so much about him? Why did she join a war for the sole purpose of avenging his death? That is not the norm for a master-slave relationship.

He wants to ask her these questions. He wants to know everything about her life. He wants to talk to her until he knows her heart and soul and mind as well as he knows his own.

But there is no time for talking anymore. The Battousai is coming. When he arrives, Enishi will fight him; and Enishi will not stop until the he is dead or Battousai is, one or the other. He will never know everything about the woman. She is not his, and she never will be.

He doesn't even know her name.

"Why won't you tell me your name?" he asks, slowly shifting towards her while remaining seated, holding her precious _katana_ out to her. She snatches it, obviously afraid if she doesn't hurry Enishi might change his mind.

She does not answer his question; she merely turns and quickly leaves the room. Enishi does not immediately rise to follow her. Instead, he closes his eyes and puts his head in his hands. He heaves a long sigh, trying to beat back the emotions clamoring around in his mind.

"_Onee_-_sama_," he whispers. "What should I do? I don't want her to leave. I don't want her to hate me for killing that bastard; but I can't let him go unpunished for killing you. He _must_ die. He _deserves_ to die. But if I kill him I lose her; and if I don't kill him she's going to go with him anyway. How can I keep her? What do I have to do? Tell me, _onee_-_sama_; please tell me what to do."

In the darkness behind his eyelids, Tomoe is frowning softly. Her eyes hold immense sadness, such as he has not seen since she was alive and grieving for her fiancé. She offers no answer for his problem. There is no answer, except the one that is obvious: Enishi is going to lose Zetsumei Kurohyou today. She is going to walk out of his life forever with the man Enishi hates most in the world or she is going to kill Enishi when that man dies by Enishi's hand. One way or another, he is going to lose her.

Standing, Enishi strides purposefully out the door of his room. He's going to lose the woman. That's it. She was never his to begin with, anyway. His attachment to her does not matter; he should never have let himself become attached in the first place. He is going to collect his weapon, find the woman, and take her down to the beach with him. She will watch as he fights the Battousai. If he is victorious, she will witness his victory. If he dies, she will see him expire. Whatever the outcome, at the end of the day she will still be leaving his island, leaving him, walking out of his life forever.

And he will never even know her name.

* * *

Kenshin was coming.

He was going to take her home.

He had not abandoned her.

_Thank you, ninjin. Thank you._

Midori followed silently behind Enishi as he led her through the small forest between his mansion and the beach. Her _katana_ hung securely across her back; it's familiar, comforting weight was making it very difficult for Midori to keep a smile off of her face. It felt as though some benevolent god had finally decided to listen to the screams of her soul and granted her wishes: she had her _katana_ back, Kenshin was waiting for her down on the beach, and she was finally – _finally_ – going to get the hell off of this island.

But first…

Midori eyed the back of the man in front of her. Enishi was holding himself stiffly erect, his back ramrod straight and the muscles in his shoulders straining. He had been clipped with her when he had barged into the room allotted for her use and told her to come with him down to the beach, his _nihontou_ tapping impatiently against one shoulder. Obviously Enishi was itching to confront Kenshin again; Midori had no illusions as to what he planned to do with that over-long blade. He still wanted to kill Kenshin; he still wanted _jinchu_ for his precious sister. Nothing had changed.

"I will not allow you to kill him," Midori informed her escort in a quiet voice.

Enishi faltered slightly, turning his head a small amount as though to glance at her before checking the movement and facing forwards once again. He said nothing. The pair continued on in silence.

They had nearly reached the shore when Enishi suddenly stopped and spun on her, his hands closing tightly around her upper arms as he pushed her backwards until she hit a tree, his _nihontou_ falling forgotten to the ground. His eyes were wild, animalistic; he was breathing hard as though he had just run a long distance. He stared at her, his face too close to her own, and she knew that struggling would do her no good.

"Don't go," Enishi blurted out, his grip on her arms so tight she knew it would leave bruises. "Don't go with him. He's a monster. He's…he's not…please. Please don't go with him. Stay here with me."

Strange cords of what appeared to be muscles stood out sharply under the skin of Enishi's face. Midori tensed, remembering the last time she had seen those cords: she had just grievously insulted his precious sister and he had proceeded to throw her across his training dojo. Now he was practically begging her to stay with him, and those cords of whatever-the-hell-they-were had emerged once again.

Which meant he was serious.

"What do you care where I go or what I do?" she asked softly, forcing her body to relax despite Enishi's overwhelming proximity. She was fairly sure he did not intend to harm her, and plainly readying herself for an attack from him would only put him even further on edge.

"Don't you understand what he _is_?" Enishi demanded, using his hold on her to shake her slightly in agitation. "You can't trust him! He'll kill you. He'll kill you just like he killed my _onee_-_sama_. You _know_ I'm right, woman, you _know_ I am! He's already tried to kill you once before! _Why_ do you stay with him? Why do you want to go back?"

"What I choose to do and why I choose to do it are none of your concern, Yukishiro," Midori informed him smoothly, ignoring the tingling pains in her arms from his grip and the way the tree behind her was pressing her sheathed _katana_ into her back. "I will make my own choices. I do not have to justify them to you."

"_Please_!" Enishi was practically snarling at her now, his eyes glinting madly behind those stupid glasses he always wore. "Stay here! Stay with me! _I do not want to lose another woman I care about to him!"_

Silence fell once more as Enishi seemed to realize what he had just admitted. He stared at Midori, slack-jawed; his grip on her arms loosened dramatically. His dark eyes widened almost comically in shock.

…Another woman he cared about.

And he was talking about Midori.

_Well_, thought Midori as Enishi yanked his hands away from her and took several steps back, _this_ _certainly_ _complicates_ _things_.

She watched in silence as Enishi pushed his glasses up until they rested in his white hair, glinting brightly in the sunlight. He rubbed his hands hard over his face, cursing softly in Chinese under his breath. Hands over his eyes, he suddenly crouched, resting his elbows on his thighs and hiding his face from her.

"Wǒ bù yìng gāi zàiyì…. Nǐ zhè gāisǐ de Battousai…. Gāisǐ de bǎ tā dài zǒu nǐ!"

_I was not supposed to care._

Midori did not know what to do. It was clear that Enishi truly feared for her should she return to Kenshin's side, and that he genuinely did not want her to leave.

_Damn you, Battousai._

He cared, apparently.

_Damn you for taking her away from me!_

Enishi actually _cared_ about Midori.

And she was about to choose Kenshin over him, just as his sister had chosen Kenshin over him.

Enishi suddenly lashed out one hand, grasping a fistful of Midori's _hakama_ and gazing up at her imploringly. The freakish cords sank back into his skin, leaving his face looking vulnerable and lost. She was shocked to see that there were actual tears in his eyes. Enishi was _crying_.

"Wǒ ài nǐ, wǒ de nǚrén. Bùyào líkāi wǒ xǐhuan jiejie. Bùyào líkāi wǒ."

_I love you, my woman._

Midori couldn't breathe.

_Don't leave me like Sister did._

He loved her?

_Don't leave me._

Enishi…loved her?

…Shit.

And before Midori even had time to think about moving away, Enishi reached up with both hands, took her face in his grip, and pulled her down so that he could kiss her on the mouth.

He tasted of tea. Jasmine tea with a hint of something wild.

Midori immediately jerked away, pulling back so violently that she overbalanced and fell onto her back. She was scrambling backwards a moment later, trying desperately to put some space between herself and the man crouched before her with an unbearably heartbreaking look on his face. He reached for her, his hand wavering as it stretched towards her. Midori was on her feet in the next instant, tensed all over and half-ready to bolt should he try to grab her. His hand curled slowly into a fist, hung in the air for a moment, and then fell limply back to his side.

And all Midori could think was that she wished more than anything she had never met this man.

Enishi gradually rose to his feet, his eyes fixed on the ground. Ever-so-slowly, he raised his head to lock gazes with her, pleading with her through his eyes for a long moment of silence.

Midori, still tense and expecting an attack, slowly shook her head.

Enishi flinched once. Then, as though a switch had been activated within his body, his muscles relaxed and he let out a long breath. Turning away from Midori, Enishi carefully lowered his glasses back to their rightful place on his nose as he walked back over to where he had so carelessly discarded his _nihontou_. He lifted the weapon, still pointedly not looking at Midori, and once again began walking towards the beach. After a moment, Midori followed, being sure to keep a little space between them just as a precaution.

_I love you_, _my woman_, he had said.

But he was mistaken.

Midori was not Enishi's woman. She belonged to Kenshin, and only to Kenshin.

She would never be Enishi's.

Never.

* * *

Midori was slightly behind Enishi when he breached the tree line and stepped out onto the beach. She had purposely slowed her steps so as to put a reasonable distance between them; after his…declaration… she had thought it prudent to do so. However, she was still close enough to see the muscles in his back and shoulders all snap taunt at the same moment.

"…Where is he?"

Enishi's voice was low, cold, and infinitely dangerous. Midori sped up as she watched his knuckles clench white around the hilt of his weapon and a familiar, young male voice rang out.

"Where's our friend? What'd you do to her? Where is she?"

Yahiko.

"Answer him you piece of shit. Where is she?"

Sanosuke.

Midori stepped out of the trees as Kaoru added her demand for information, and the uproar her appearance caused was deafening.

"There she is! There she is, look!"

"_AIBOU_!"

"It's her, she's all right!"

Enishi's hand wrapping around her upper arm once more was the only thing that kept Midori from blowing right past him. Instead she was forcibly yanked to a halt at his side, much to the vocal annoyance of her friends.

"Let her go you bastard!"

"Don't hurt her!"

"Oi, kick his ass, _aibou_!"

Rather than take Sanosuke's advice, Midori squinted against the reflected light coming off of the ocean. She wanted to see him. He had not spoken yet; he was silent while the others greeted her. She wanted to see him if she was not to be allowed the pleasure of his voice.

Yahiko, Sanosuke, and Kaoru were closest to her. Yahiko looked rather the worse for wear, much of his skin covered in bandages and a brilliant black eye dominating the left side of his face. Sanosuke looked even more disheveled than was his norm, and unless Midori was very much mistaken, it would seem that her friend had lost a considerable amount of weight. Kaoru, dressed in her training _gi_ and _hakama_, had such dark bags under her eyes that it almost looked as though someone had punched her in the face; she too looked thinner than when Midori had last seen her.

Slightly behind the trio stood another group of people. Megumi stood next to a small rowboat, her medicine chest clutched tightly in her perfectly manicured hands while worried eyes scanned Midori's form from head to toe and back again. Weirdly enough, next to her stood Saito, his customary cigarette clamped firmly between his lips and his cold yellow eyes fixed on Enishi – with the occasional glance in Midori's direction that from anyone else might have been glances of concern.

Even stranger than Saito's presence, however, were the two people standing to Megumi's other side. Saito was probably there on behalf of the police. Midori could think of no plausible excuse for the fact that the Okashira of the Oniwabanshu and his tiny little kunoichi were currently on the beach of Enishi's island, decked out in full shinobi regalia and plainly ready to fight.

But that was not important at the moment.

What was important at the moment was the conspicuious absence of a certain red-haired, magneta-gi-wearing ex-hitokiri. Kenshin was nowhere to be seen.

He was not on the beach.

A cold, ugly feeling began to take root deep in Midori's stomach.

"Where is the Battousai?" Enishi demanded from beside her, his hand squeezing her arm roughly when the people before them failed to answer. "Where. Is. He."

No one spoke of a long moment. Then –

"The Battousai is not with us."

It was the Okashira who spoke up – Aoshi, Midori recalled, Aoshi Shinomori. He had fought with and against Shishio a year ago in Kyoto. He stepped forwards, motioning for his companion to stay where she was as he did so. The kunoichi frowned and fidgeted but did as he indicated.

"The Battousai is not with us," Shinomori repeated, his cool voice betraying nothing of his thoughts. "We have come to retrieve Zetsumei Kurohyou. Release her."

Enishi attempted to pull Midori behind him in answer.

Midori planted her feet in the sand and refused to budge.

"Where is he?" she croaked, directing her question at Shinomori. "Where is Himura? Why is he not here with the rest of you?"

The Okashira's eyes narrowed, and he was silent for so long Midori began to wonder if he was going to answer her at all. She had just opened her mouth to ask someone else the same question when Shinomori spoke again.

"The Battousai did not accompany us because he is dead to the world."

Pain was creeping through her chest, and Midori vaguely realized that her hands were trembling violently.

"What…what does that mean?" she whispered, trying to take a step forward in spite of Enishi's hold on her and the sudden lack of feeling in her legs. "Where is he?"

"The Battousai is currently in the Rakuninmura."

Rakuninmura. 'The crowd of fallen people'; the dilapidated shantytown that was home to all those who had given up on life. A town within a town; a place for the walking dead.

And Kenshin was there instead of on this beach, ready to take her home.

"Why?" Midori gasped, forcing the word out through the bubble of pain steadily expanding within her chest. "Does he know that I live? Was he told that I am here?"

"Tsubame told him."

Yahiko's voice cut through the growing haze in Midori's mind; her gaze swung immediately from the icy Okashira to the young samurai, who was staring at the ground as though wishing it would swallow him whole.

"That one-armed guy broke out of jail and went crazy around Tokyo. I was fighting him, but he was beating the crap out of me and Tsubame ran to that hole where Kenshin is to tell him. We hadn't told him yet that you weren't dead, so she told him in the hopes that it'd snap him out of this stupid depression he's sunk into."

Yahiko paused, his throat working visibly as he swallowed. The hand that wasn't currently wrapped around the hilt of his _bokken_ rose until his fingers skimmed across the discolored skin around his left eye.

"He didn't react at all," he muttered, something like rage and something like disappointment resonating in his voice. "He didn't come help me beat that guy. Saito showed up and killed him. Kenshin didn't do anything. It was like he didn't care that you were alive or something."

_Maybe he's decided he doesn't actually care about you. Maybe he isn't coming for you at all._

_No._

The ground suddenly tilted sharply, and Midori found herself being held mostly upright by nothing but Enishi's grip on her arm. The taste of blood was heavy in her mouth, and the pain in her chest exploded outwards through her body as her muscles all tensed at once.

_No._

Someone was shaking her arm, someone was saying something in her ear, someone was yanking her up against their body and putting an arm around her waist; but that someone had white hair instead of red and was much too tall.

_No_.

"I hate…your sister…" she wheezed out, using a claw-like hand to grab Enishi's tunic by the collar and pull him closer as her vision wavered dangerously and began to go black, "…because if she…had been kidnapped…he would have…saved her…the first…fucking…day…because…he loved her…more than…anything…or anyone…"

_**No.**_

* * *

A/N: Review please.


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

_"Hey, Midori, can I ask you a question?" Sanosuke's voice is uncharacteristically quiet, hardly loud enough to hear over the sounds of the river beside which they are reclining. Midori turns her face away from the hot sun, eyeing Sano's profile curiously._

_"You may."_

_"...What's it feel like to be in love?"_

_Midori shoots her friend a quizzical look. That is perhaps the last thing she would have ever expected to be asked. "Why are you asking me?"_

_Sanosuke shrugs, his half-lidded eyes fixed resolutely on the water in front of them. "Just curious. Never actually experianced it myself, and it'd be kinda awkward having this kinda conversation with Kenshin. Who else am I gonna ask?"_

_Midori laughs, turning her gaze back to the sky for a moment before closing her eyes. "I am not exactly an expert on the subject. Kenshin would be the more knowledgable of us to answer such a question."_

_"What's that supposed to mean?"_

_Midori does not answer. Tomoe is not her secret to tell._

_"I can tell you what love is to me, I suppose," she says instead, keeping her eyes closed and her body relaxed as the sun beat down upon her. She can practically feel Sanosuke's eyes boring holes in the side of her face, such is the intensity of his curiosity._

_"When I was a small child, I lived in what to me was the equivolent of perpetual darkness. My...parents...did not want me; I was despised from the moment I opened my eyes to reveal myself as different from the norm. Their hatred and disgust invoked a feeling akin to being blindfolded in a winter storm: it stole the light from my life, the warmth, and left me alone in a dark place in which there was no shelter from the harsh words or stinging blows. This darkness, this coldness, was constantly present from the time of my earliest memory until I was bought and freed by my Myoushu._

_"With freedom came light, and warmth. Myoushu's constant affection was like a hot bowl of soup and a warm blanket in a well-lit room. His brand of love - like that a father feels for his child - thawed my heart and was as a warm balm for my soul, which for all of my life beforehand had been denied even the smallest touch of affection._

_"When he died, when his love was taken from me, I sank willingly back into the darkness. I embraced it; I welcomed the inner cold that filled me. I shut off the emotions that he had awakened in me; I forced myself not to feel anything except anger and hatred. After so long with the warmth of Myoushu's love, when it was taken from me the coldness was more deadly by a hundredfold. I fed upon it, let it consume me, let it guide me as I killed dozens of men every night after my assigned target was dealt with. I turned myself into the demon I had always been accused of being. I let myself slip closer and closer to being an animal each time I took a life._

_"When I first met Kenshin, a small spark of light and warmth was rekindled in my soul. I had a friend, for the first time in my life; I had someone who cared if I was hurt on assignments, who talked to me, who was not afraid of me at first sight. He became precious to me."_

_Midori falls quiet, deciding to skip over the devastation that had crippled her when Kenshin betrayed her and the following decade of endless winter in her soul. She thinks that at this point, Sanosuke knows her well enough that he can guess most of what she might say anyway. The words are unneccessary._

_"Love," she continues after a short pause, "is warmth, and light, and a feeling of safety. Love is waking up in his arms. Love is his voice soothing me after a nightmare. Love is having a conversation with you, and being able to look into your eyes and not see fear. Love is having Yahiko-chan demand that I spar with him, trusting me not to kill him in spite of what he knows of my past. Love is forcing myself to eat Kaoru's cooking so that I do not offend her._

_"You are all my family, and to me, you are love personified."_

_There is another pause before Midori turns her head and bestows a positively wicked grin upon Sanosuke._

_"Now, if a rooster is looking for advice on love from his panther friend, the panther feels inclined to warn the rooster that foxes both bite and scratch; the rooster should therefore proceed with caution. Unless of course you enjoy rough loving."_

_The color of Sanosuke's face as he sputters a denial would surely match Kenshin's hairtone, were the two side by side._

* * *

Enishi stares at the unconscious woman in his arms, shifting to press her closer to his chest as he kneels in the sand. He reaches one hand to her face, brushing hair from her eyes and completely ignoring the irate shouting from the people on his island. The muscles in the woman's back are twitching against his arms, residual spasms left over from her episode.

Damn woman.

He wishes they were alone again, that he could just sweep her into his arms like he's been doing all these weeks and take her back to her room to recover. He wonders if she ever realized that he's been staying in the room with her, watching over her until she begins to stir.

"Get your hands off her, you fucking piece of shit!"

He wonders if she will be terribly angry with him should he kill one or two of her friends.

Enishi tears his gaze away from the woman's face to glare at Sagara, who is being forcibly held back from attacking him by both the Kamiya girl and the lady doctor. Saito holds the boy off the ground by the collar of his _gi_, ignoring the screamed insults the boy hurls at him. Shinomori stands near his little kunoichi, one arm held in front of the girl's chest to keep her safely back.

If any of them get anywhere near his woman Enishi is going to maim them. Battousai has abandoned her, so she is his now. _His_. And he is not going to give her up without a fight.

But wait…one of these people is a doctor. Enishi's eyes zero in on the woman clutching Sagara's left arm; that's her, the doctor, the woman who can help him. But he does not want to leave his woman unprotected. He glances down at her prone form once again, torn. He needs to get up and grab the doctor. He needs to put his woman down to do that. He needs to –

"Ah. I see you came out to meet our guests, Boss."

Damn his luck.

Enishi turns the full force of his glare onto Heishin, who strolls out of the forest with his four thugs around him. Why is _he_ still here? Enishi told the fool to get the hell off of this island over an hour ago. He doesn't want to deal with him right now.

"I suppose I should thank you for bringing your pet here as well. That will make my goal so much easier."

Why had he ever employed someone with such an annoying voice? Enishi would dearly love to stand and rip Heishin's vocal cords out of his throat, but again, he needs to put his woman down to do so and he does not want to put his woman down.

"What are you doing here, Heishin?" Enishi barks, clutching his woman protectively to his chest. "I told you I wanted you off of my island. Are you truly stupid enough to challenge me? Do you want me to kill you?"

Heishin gives Enishi a look that clearly questions his sanity.

"Of course not, Boss. I wish to aid you in your private matter so that I might take control of the organization sooner. Please, don't overexert yourself. My Su-shin will take care of this rabble. After they are taken care of -" – here Heishin pauses to reach under his tight Chinese-style jacket and withdraws a pistol – "- I will help you dispose of the Battousai's woman. Just sit there quietly until my Su-shin are finished."

Enishi realizes that he is holding his woman so tightly that he is in danger of hurting her. Dispose of _Battousai's_ woman? She is _Enishi's_ woman, by the gods! How dare Heishin threaten her! Enishi will not let that Chinese bastard take his woman away. No one will ever touch Enishi's woman, no one is ever going to hurt her while life resides within Enishi's body! If his woman dies, _onee_-_sama_ will cry again! Enishi will be alone again!

Faintly, over the shouting of the woman's friends as Heishin's thugs begin their attack, over the crashing of the waves against the beach, and over the pounding in his ears, Enishi hears the whisper of a voice.

"Don't you…don't you hurt them…you fucking rat…"

Enishi looks down at his woman, shocked that she is waking so soon. He tries to maneuver so that he has his body between her and Heishin, but the woman almost immediately tries to wrench herself from Enishi's grasp. She slowly raises her head to face him, baring her teeth in a warning snarl.

Her eyes...

Her eyes are blank. Wiped clean of all emotion. Completely empty, pitiless...inhuman. These are not the eyes of his woman; these are the eyes of Zetsumei Kurohyou, demonic assassin of the Ishin Shishi.

When she speaks, her voice makes Enishi's skin crawl.

"Release me."

Enishi's frown deepens. "Woman -"

The woman's arm shoot up, her fist colliding with Enishi's chin and clicking his mouth shut with the force behind the blow. His hold loosens by a small fraction, and suddenly the woman is striding across the sand towards Heishin, her _katana_ unsheathed and glinting brightly in her hand. The line of her shoulders seem to blur slightly, and Enishi realizes that his woman is trembling.

Stubborn woman.

When a shot rings out, Enishi is on his feet and has a hand on his woman's arm again in an instant. She has paused in her stalking of Heishin, who stands before her with pistol raised. The pistol's barrel is smoking slightly; Heishin has fired a shot at Enishi's woman.

"Stay back!" Heishin shouts, a wild look overtaking his face as he brandishes his pistol. "Stay back, you bitch, or do you want more lead in your body?"

_More_ lead?

"I am going to kill you."

The woman is out of Enishi's grip before he realizes what is happening. There comes a whistle of metal slicing through the air, followed by the sound of a blade cutting through flesh and bone. A scream tears through the air an instant later.

The woman stands over the crumpled form of Heishin, blood on her blade and the man's severed hand on the sand beside her; the pistol is still gripped firmly in the fingers. Heishin is screaming; his four thugs have all turned, abandoning their fights to rush to their master's aid.

Sagara is shouting, the women are screaming, and the boy is yelling the word 'green' in Japanese over and over.

Enishi watches, eyes wide, as his woman raises her _katana_ and licks a swath of blood from it.

"Dirty blood for a dirty rat."

She drives the point of her _katana_ through Heishin's left eye barely a second before Heishin's thugs converge on her. Enishi bounds forward, terrified for her safety and shocked by her actions. What the hell does his woman think she is doing? She has just had a seizure, been shot, and suffered a devastating emotional blow. She should _not_ be starting fights with four men twice her size!

One of those men twice her size suddenly falls backwards, his head toppling to the side as his body hits the sand. Blood gushes in a spraying fountain from the corpse's neck, soaking Enishi's face and front as he darts to his woman's side and uses his bare hand to block a spiked gauntlet attached to a massive fist. The thug bares his point-filed teeth in a snarl, immediately swinging his other fist at Enishi's unprotected side while Enishi's hands are occupied. Before it can impale him, a flash of steel momentarily blinds him; when his vision clears, it is to see a bare blade mere inches from the side of his face. Following the length of the blade with his eyes, Enishi watches as it is removed from the open mouth of the thug against whom he had been struggling. Said thug falls to the ground and does not move again.

"Stay the fuck out of my way, Yukishiro."

A foot plants itself in his lower back, propelling his body forward several steps before he regains his balance and whirls to find his woman. There are still two men trying to kill her. He cannot allow her to be hurt. He cannot allow her to leave him. He must protect her.

The one whom he wishes to protect blurs into a spin, her blade lashing out high and then low as she rotates. One of the remaining two thugs splits in two at the waist, his top half landing in the sand to one side even as his bottom half collapse forwards. His living brother falls backwards, screaming in agony, with both of his legs cut off just above the knee.

The woman's friends have gone silent on the beach behind Enishi.

Zetsumei Kurohyou stalks majestically to stand at the head of her victim, her fingers wrapped firmly around the hilt of her bloodied _katana_. The man by her feet is sobbing, cries for mercy and appeals for help spilling futilely from his lips. The sun glints off of drenched steel as it's weilder raises it above her head.

"There is no mercy left in me," she whispers, her words nearly lost under the screams of her victim. "There is no one who can help you now.

"Die."

Her blade descends in a graceful arc, slicing the man's head from his shoulders in an instant.

Where once screams echoed through the air, now there is only silence.

The woman stands alone amidst the carnage of her victims, blood on her face and dripping steadily from her blade. For a long, tense moment, she stares detachedly at the headless corpse of her last kill; her face, which is profile to Enishi's position, is completely blank and totally uninterested. One would never think that this woman had just slaughtered five men in under five minutes. Ever so slowly, she turns her head to fix her gaze on a point somewhere past Enishi's right shoulder even as she performs a _chiburi_ to rid her _katana_ of blood before resheathing it. A moment later she is breezing past him with so much as a glance in his direction.

"Megumi-san, I have a bullet in my thigh that will need to be removed. Do you have the neccessary tools in your medicine chest to do so?"

There is no answer.

"Megumi-san."

Again, there is no answer. A slight pause follows before the woman speaks again, and it seems to Enishi that a new level of coldness has entered her voice.

"Okashira, do you possess the skills required to surgically remove a bullet from my leg? It is not deeply under the skin."

Turning, Enishi watches in silence as Shinomori gives his consent and the woman strolls to the doctor's side. She says nothing as she stoops to pick up the discarded medicine chest, apparently deciding to ignore the horrified looks she is recieving from the women and the boy. Sagara looks almost ill, his eyes darting between the woman and the corpses of the men she just slaughtered. Hajime Saito's face is as closed as the woman's; Enishi can't tell what he's thinking as his yellow eyes track the woman's every move. The ninja is standing with his body between the woman's and the little kunoichi he brought with him; his weapon is clutched tightly in the girl's hands.

No one speaks as the woman moves to drop the medicine chest at the ninja's feet before lowering herself to sit before him. No one speaks as she tears the fabric of her hakama, making a large hole over a bleeding chunk of her thigh as the ninja kneels and rummages through the medicine chest. There is silence as the ninja pulls out a small knife and moves to cut into the woman's flesh.

And then Enishi is squeezing the ninja's throat with one nerve-buldging hand and the woman's newly unsheathed weapon is barely cutting the skin on the back of Enishi's neck as she speaks to him in a low, emotionless tone that sounds all the worse for the words that she speaks.

"If you so much as breathe upon anyone here in a manner that displeases me, I will cut out your heart while you still live and feed it to the sharks that make their home in the waters around this island. Your blood will join the blood of your companions as it soaks into the sand of this beach; your body will rot next to theirs if anyone here is hurt in the slightest way because of an action you make."

Her blade cuts deeper, sending obscene amounts of pain through his body as his portruding nerves register the sharpness of her weapon.

"Let go of Shinomori and back the fuck off."

Slowly, careful of the threat upon his neck, Enishi releases his grip around the ninja's throat and stands; his nerves slowly sink back to their normal size. He tries to catch his woman's eye, but she has already turned her attention from him and back to Shinomori.

"Please proceed, Shinomori."

Enishi watches, tense and feeling strangely helpless, and Shinomori digs the tip of the knife into Zetsumei Kurohyou's bleeding thigh. The woman gives no outward reaction, no physical acknowledgement to the pain she must be feeling. She does not even look at the man digging a bullet out of her leg; her eyes instead are directed at the sea, and they are as dead and blank of all feeling as the eyes of a corpse.

_What should I do, onee-sama?_ Enishi ponders, watching closely as the leader of the Oniwabanshu cuts a bullet out of the leg of the woman he has allowed himself to grow attached to. _She is closed to me now. Her eyes are so far away. What should I do to bring her back to me? How do I bridge this distance between us, to fix the wound Battousai has dealt to her heart?_

A small, slightly calloused hand is laid against Enishi's bare arm; a voice in the vicinity of his bicep murmurs in an attempt to get his attention. "Um...Yukishiro-san?"

He glances down and to the side. It is the Kamiya girl, she who teaches kendo at that dojo in Tokyo. She is quick to withdraw her hand, holding out the frayed and stained book she carries in the other even as she edges away from him uneasily. She does not seem to know that the former wolf of Mibu is standing very close behind her, one hand on the hilt of his weapon and those cold yellow eyes watching Enishi's every move.

"This...this was your sister's," the girl tells him, her voice remarkably steady for how afraid she seems to be. She says nothing else, and is quite willing to release the book when Enishi suddenly snatches it from her. Mind whirling, Enishi allows the book to flop open in his hands as his anticipation rises.

Handwriting. _Onee_-_sama's_ handwriting. This is _onee_-_sama's_ journal. Tearing his eyes away from this treasure, Enishi pins the Kamiya girl with a glare, completely ignoring the sound of a blade sliding partway out of a sheath.

"Where did you get this?" he asks quietly, and the girl flinches slightly from the menace oozing from Enishi's tone. "Where? Who gave this to you?"

Kamiya opens her mouth as though to reply, but it is the ninja who answers, drawing Enishi's attention back to him and the woman from whom he is now pulling a small ball of lead.

"The Battousai left that journal at a temple in Kyoto some years ago. We retrieved it to present to you before coming here." Withdrawing a roll of bandages from the medicine chest, Shinomori hands them to Zetsumei Kurohyou without needing her to tell him to do so; said woman begins tightly wrapping her thigh immediately, her fingers swift and sure even as her eyes seem to gaze listlessly into the middle distance.

Standing and placing himself between Enishi and the little kunoichi, the Okashira meets Enishi's gaze with carefully shuttered eyes. "It is past time you were made aware of the way in which your sister viewed the Battousai. Her diary will contain the answers you will require. Read it, and let this Jinchu end now."

_Onee_-_sama's_ innermost thoughts.

Her most private feelings.

All in the palms of Enishi's hands.

_Onee_-_sama_.

* * *

Everything felt wrong, and Sano didn't like it.

His eyes moved from Midori, who sat in the sand and calmly wrapped the spot on her leg that Aoishi had just finished digging around in with a knife, to that white-haired bastard and back again. He refused to look behind him to the source of the blood he could so easily smell on the air; that smell was already making him want to throw up, and he would rather not make an ass of himself in front of this group of people. This had been a long enough day already.

Sano was just...shocked. Amazed. Hell, he was a little bit scared, and nothing ever scared him. But this was all just so fucked up. Was that really Midori sitting there, calmly tying bandages around her thigh as though she had bullets dug out of her every day? Had that really been Midori he had just watched butcher five men so quickly and easily?

Sanosuke Sagara had seen alot of messed up shit in his life. He'd seen the slaughter of the Sekihoutai by the Meiji pigs; he'd seen Sagara-teichou's head on a pike. He'd met and fought Udo Ji-ne. He'd seen the men of Aoshi's Oniwabanshu get killed by that bastard Takeda. He'd seen Makoto Shishio kill his prostitute to hurt Kenshin; he'd seen Shishio spontaneously combust.

But watching Midori kill those men, seeing the look on her face and the coldness in her eyes as she did it, watching Aoshi dig that bullet out of her leg while she sat there calm as you please like it didn't even register that she should be feeling a shitload of pain right about then - that was just _wrong_.

It was wrong, and Sano did _not_ like it one little bit.

* * *

Five men.

Midori killed five men in a matter of about a minute.

Five.

On her own.

Without getting so much as a scratch, aside from the gunshot wound that puny-looking guy had got off before Midori even stared attacking.

Yahiko stared at the decimated bodies, trying so hard not to start heaving up his last meal all over this beach at the sight and the smell. Those things had been people a few minutes ago. They had been armed, and had been trying to hurt Midori, and Yahiko had been so scared for her he had accidentally blurted out her name a few times.

And then she had just started _moving_, and there was screaming and she said something and he was pretty sure he saw her _lick blood_ at one point, and then there was more screaming and suddenly everyone that was trying to hurt her was dead. And Yahiko was left trying really hard not to vomit.

And he had actually sparred with her before! He had actually deluded himself into thinking that one day he was going to be strong enough to beat her!

Yahiko stared at the chopped-up corpses on the beach, swallowed a mouthful of bile, and felt that illusion crumble to dust.

* * *

"Aoshi-sama." Misao's usually bright and chipper voice whispered quietly from behind the watchful ninja who stood protectively in front of her. Aoshi tilted his head slightly to let her know he was listening, keeping his attention mainly focused on Yukishiro where he stood absorbed in his dead sister's journal.

"Aoshi-sama, what's wrong with Kurohyou-sama?"

Aoshi slowly switched his gaze from Yukishiro to the injured woman in the sand to his right. She had moved slightly since last Aoshi had looked; her knees were drawn into her chest, her elbows resting on them as her hands violently gripped hanks of her black bangs in white-knuckled fists. As he watched, a strong tremor wracked her body; his well-trained ears detected the sharp intake of breath through her gritted teeth as her muscles spasmed. What he could see of the woman's face was strangely blank, as though she had shut herself off from the pain of the seizure she seemed to be suffering.

Her eyes, however, were what gave him pause.

Had his eyes looked like that? After the death of his men, after they had sacrificed themselves to save his life and he was left with nothing but a misguided quest for power and an aching hole in his soul? Had his eyes been as dead and empty as this woman's were now?

"Aoshi-sama? What's wrong with her?"

And Aoshi could only shake his head in reply.

That was not a question he could give a sure answer to.

* * *

_He isn't here._

Midori ground her teeth together, riding out the last wave of pain as it rolled outwards from her chest to her extremities.

_He isn't here._

She ached all over. The wound in her thigh was throbbing. She was covered in sweat and dirt and blood. She was in desperate need of a bath.

_He isn't here_.

Her friends were all acting like they were absolutely terrified of her now.

_He isn't here_.

Enishi was in love with her, and she had just casually butchered five men on the beach of his island home.

_He isn't here_.

And the one person Midori wanted to see more than any other was nowhere to be found.

_The Battousai did not accompany us because he is currently dead to the world. The Battousai is currently in the Rakuninmura._

_Tsubame told him. We hadn't told him yet that you weren't dead, so she told him in the hopes that it'd snap him out of this stupid depression he's sunk into. He didn't react at all. Kenshin didn't do anything. It was like he didn't care that you were alive or something._

_Maybe he's decided he doesn't actually care about you. Maybe he isn't coming for you at all._

A hand touched her wrist. "_Aibou?"_

Midori slowly released her bangs and lowered her hands, meeting the worried gaze of Sanosuke where he crouched in front of her on the beach.

"You okay? You want me to help you get over to the foxlady so she can check your bandaging?"

"He isn't here," Midori whispered, letting her hands move so that they fisted tightly in Sanosuke's white jacket. Tears were burning the back of her eyes and sliding freely down her face, but she was not in a position to care at the moment. "He isn't here."

Slowly, as though not wishing to startle her, Sanosuke tenderly wrapped his arms around Midori and drew her towards him until she rested with her cheek against his chest. Midori clung to him like a child seeking reassurance. He soothed her gently, his bandaged left hand stroking it's way through her high tail of hair again and again.

"He isn't here."

"I know, _aibou_. I know."

"He was supposed to come for me. He was supposed to take me home."

"We'll take you home. Me and the brat and Jou-chan and the fox; that's why we're here. Hell, even Aoshi and the little weasel came to get you. Hell, even _Saito_ came to get you, and he's a heartless bastard if there ever was one."

Midori pressed closer, hiding her face as the tears came faster.

"But I need him," she whispered, voice so quiet she was unsure whether or not Sanosuke would be able to hear her. "I need him and he isn't here. He was supposed to come for me, and he isn't here."

"I know, _aibou_."

A pair of arms wrapped tighter around her in comfort, but it was the wrong pair of arms. The voice that soothed her was not the right voice.

"I'll take you to him, _aibou_. I promise I'll get you to him."

But it was not enough, because he should have come to her of his own will. He should have been holding her right then. He should have been there right then, on that beach with her and the others.

And he was not.

And nothing anyone might do could ever fix that.

* * *

A/N: For the record, knee surgery is very painful and takes a really long time to recover from. Now that I can walk again, I will celebrate by posting this chapter that I worked on in between getting stabbed with needles to get blood draw and the legal torture that is physical therapy. Please review.


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

_He died in an unfamiliar place, and my happiness vanished with him. I was not smart enough to keep him close so that my happiness would never leave. But it was my fault. It was my fault, because I never told him how much I loved him as he was. If I'd only had the courage then...The more I thought about it, the more I felt I had to hate someone...anyone...or I would go insane. So I plotted with others to bring about your destruction. I am that kind of woman._

_And yet...you say...you say you will protect me._

_He_ _traveled to Kyoto to impress me, because I made him think he needed to be more than he was._

_When he died...I knew that I had lost everything that I had ever wanted. He was murdered because I was too foolish to understand something so simple. I hated you so that I would not turn that hatred inward. I tried hard to hate you enough to make me take your life in revenge._

_But I..._

_My heart has changed like the seasons. Just as you have changed from an assassin to a husband._

_Last year, you caused my heart to close itself off from the world. Now it has become full again. I tell myself that I have no right to be happy with the man who killed my love, even if he is the man who taught me to love again._

_But Kiyosato died thinking I did not love him enough, and I will not make that mistake again._

_The heart can forget tragedy when it is replaced with such deep devotion._

_The greatest tragedy is that I cannot give these thoughts to you with my voice. I can only write them._

_My love for you will not be enough to change the consequences of your actions._

_You once destroyed my only happiness. But now you have given me a new hope._

_Farewell. Farewell to you, my second love._

* * *

She loved him.

She _loved_ him.

_She_ loved _him_.

Enishi clutches the aged journal in his hands, fighting back tears of despair and anger. It has taken him nearly two days to read the entire book; two days in which storms have pounded his island and the group that came to save their friend has been forced to stay in his mansion. They are here now, these people who would take _her_ away from Enishi; but he cannot think or care about that now. His _onee_-_sama's_ last entry lashes out at him, the words running in circles around his comprehension as he struggles to make sense of what he has learned.

_She loved him._

No. There has been a mistake. This is not his _onee_-_sama's_ journal. It is a forgery, that is the only explanation. This is all a lie orchestrated by that damn Okashira to distract him.

And yet -

And yet...this is his _onee_-_sama's_ handwriting. He would recognize it anywhere. This is her writing; these are her words writing on this paper that is both tearstained and bloodstained. _Onee_-_sama_ wrote this. And that means...

That means _onee_-_sama_ really did love the Battousai.

That means _onee_-_sama_ really did die to protect the Battousai.

It wasn't murder; it was suicidal sacrifice.

_Blood and snow and the smell of white plums. Purple and white and the spreading stain of scarlet._

_The Battousai slicing through onee-sama as though she were butter._

_Onee-sama's blood staining the Battousai's hands as he holds her in his arms while she dies_.

Enishi flings the journal away from him with a cry of anguish, sending it skidding into a corner of his office. In an instant he bolts from the room, not caring if any of his unwanted house guests see him; running blindly with no destination even as he races out of his mansion. He wants to outrun the terrible thing he has finally realized. He wants to outrun the vision of _onee_-_sama's_ body in the Battousai's arms as he weeps over her. He wants to outrun the crushing sense of lonliness that threatens to consume him.

He finds himself on the beach, the sand still stained with the blood of Heishin and his four bodyguards. It is raining heavily, and the sea stretched out before him is rolling and tossing angrily. The row boat on the beach is in danger of being washed away, but Enishi does not care. He fists his hands into his white hair and screams and screams and screams until his voice gives out on him, and then he stands there with his mouth gaping in silence as lightning cuts a jagged path across the the skies and thunder pounds against his eardrums. His nerves pulse and bulge just underneath the skin, and every drop of rain is like a thousand icy needles piercing him. The wind pounds at him; he staggers, drops to his knees in the wet sand as the storm rages around him.

He realizes that he is screaming again, bashing his fists into the sand and screaming for his _onee_-_sama_. Why did she leave him? Why did she throw her life away for the Battousai? Why could she not have lived for Enishi, when Enishi loved her so much and needed her more than anything else in the world? Why wasn't he good enough for her love?

Why, _why_, **_why_**?

Enishi is weeping now, weeping as he pounds his fists into the ground harder and harder until the skin over his knuckles breaks and bleeds. Weeping as his screams die and depression creeps into the edges of his soul. Weeping as he realizes that the last fifteen years of his life have been lived for the sole purpose of avenging _onee_-_sama's_ death, and there had never been anything to avenge in the first place. Weeping as he realizes that his life is meaningless.

He is alone.

He is alone, without a purpose, and without a single person in the entire world who cares for him.

_I wish I were dead. I wish I had died as a child in Shanghai._

_Onee-sama. Tell me what I should do now. Tell me what to do!_

He flinches violently when arms wrap around him from behind. Hurting, angry, Enishi jerks from those arms and whirls.

Zetsumei Kurohyou is kneeling there in the sand, her body and clothing soaked with rain. Her arms are still outstretched, as though to pull him back into her embrace. Her emerald eyes make him flinch again, so filled are they with pain and understanding.

She speaks, and Enishi has to strain to hear her voice over the crash of thunder as lightning lights up the sky.

"You told me two nights ago not to pull away. You asked me to sit where I was and accept your comfort. I did so. Please do the same for me now."

"She loved him!" Enishi blurts, yanking his fists inward to cross his arms over his chest. He wants so badly to do as she says, to fall into her arms and weep until he runs out of tears. He aches to be held by her, to recieve her comfort. But it would be pity, wouldn't it? Pity that caused her to seek him out, to offer that comfort in the first place? He doesn't want her pity. How can she ever understand even a fraction of what Enishi is going through?

There is a long pause, broken only by the sounds of the pouring rain and the rumble of thunder overhead. There is much water on the woman's face, and he wonders if all of it is from the rain. She shifts towards him; one hand gently brushes over one clenched fist.

"He loves her."

_He loves her_. Loves, not loved as in past tense. He _loves_ her. _Onee_-_sama_ has been dead for fifteen years, and Battousai...

_He loves her_.

And then Enishi understands how this woman can offer him comfort for this terrible pain that is eating at his insides. Zetsumei Kurohyou loves the Battousai - and she thinks that the Battousai still loves _onee_-_sama_, even after all this time.

_She feels the same as I do. She is hurting the same as I am. This isn't pity; this is sympathy. She understands exactly how I feel, because she has felt the same way before. She feels the same way now._

His arms shoot out and he grabs her, yanking her to his chest and burying his face in her sopping wet hair. He wraps his arms tightly around her as the sobs begin again, clutching her to him; afraid she will leave him too if he lets her go. He holds onto her as tight as he can and cries like a babe.

He barely registers when her body - which went rigid when he grabbed her - relaxes slightly. He shakes harder when her arms move to embrace him loosely, one around his back while the other goes higher so that she might run her fingers through his hair. Even soaked to the bone from the rain, Enishi feels as though warmth is radiating off of this woman to soothe him as best she can. He clutches her tighter and cries harder.

"Please don't leave me!" Enishi eventually begs, digging his fingers into the back of the woman's gi. "Please don't leave me alone again! Please don't!"

He has only a moment to remember that he shouldn't be begging her for anything in Chinese, which of course she might not know, before she speaks again.

"I will not go anywhere for the moment," she replies in flawless Chinese. "But when the storm passes I will return to Tokyo with the others."

Enishi stiffens, dread at the thought of losing her pumping adrenaline into his veins. Terrified at the prospect of being abandoned once again, Enishi moves his hold to her upper arms and shakes her roughly.

"No!" he shouts at her over the renewed rumble of thunder. "No! You can't leave me! I will not let you leave me!"

"I do not require your permission." That statement contains a clear warning, a caution; Enishi ignores it as if he never heard her, because she is his and he needs her and he _will not_ let her go _ever_.

"I won't let you go!" Enishi is frantic, scared of losing her when she _understands_ and can _help him_ and she just wants to leave? "I need you to help me! You _have_ to stay here! I _need_ you! _I don't have anyone in the world but you!"_

She merely looks at him with those green eyes of hers, silently refusing his demands and warning him not to try threatening her. He doesn't. He tries hurting her instead.

"You would go back to him?" he scoffs, his grip on her arms tightening until he can feel his blunt nails break through her sleeve to cut into her skin. "He doesn't care about you! He left you here at my mercy! He will never care for you as much as he cares for my _onee_-_sama_; and you would go back to him anyway? Have you no pride?"

Her eyes flash at him, and then the world blurs around him. When it settles, Enishi is on his stomach, his face pressing hard into the wet sand, his arms twisted painfully high behind his back. Zetsumei Kurohyou straddles his hips from behind, her hold on him unbreakable and her mouth very, very close to his pierced ear.

"I go back to collect my belongings," she tells him, and her voice is as dead as it was that day when she calmly butchered Heishin and his men. "I do not go back for him. I am aware that your precious sister will always possess his heart. I will hate her for that until the day I die. I wish I had killed her the first day I saw her. She ruined my life all those years ago, ruined his life, and ruined yours. And you have ruined the life I have built with him. I will hate you for that until the day I die. Your wretched family has taken everything from me, and I curse the day I first heard the name of Yukishiro."

And just as suddenly as she appeared, she is gone; and he is alone on the beach with his sorrow and his rage.

* * *

Sano practically glued himself to Midori's side the morning after the storm. He knew she'd been out in it for awhile the day before, and he was worried she might be sick or something. Hell, she had an open wound on her thigh! What the hell had she been doing out there anyway?

She was real quiet, too. She didn't say anything when the cops showed up; or when that white-haired bastard was rowed up to the ship in chains, clutching his sister's diary; or when their little group had been rowed out to the same ship, and they had set sail for Tokyo. Once they'd gotten on board the ship, Midori had made a beeline for an out of the way little spot on the deck. Sano had followed her and plopped down right next to her, occassionally glaring at passing sailors or policemen to make sure they didn't try to bother his _aibou_. He was doing them a favor, really; it was pretty obvious that Midori wasn't in the mood for lots of questions, and she'd do a lot worse than just glare if somebody was stupid enough to pester her.

She had taken his left hand in hers as soon as he'd sat down beside her; she didn't let go for the entire trip.

The others were scattered around the deck, too. Aoshi and his little weasel had staked out a spot by the mast; Jou-chan, the foxlady, and the brat were on the opposite rail - where Yahiko frequently emptied his stomach. Saito had disappeared earlier; he was probably guarding the white-haired bastard.

It wasn't until they were docking at the harbor in Tokyo that Midori even started talking. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze to make sure she had his attention; when he looked at her, she said, "I need a favor."

"Sure, _aibou_. Name it and I'll see what I can do."

"I want you to take me to him. As soon as we disembark. Just you; I don't want the others to go with us."

Sano hesitated. He didn't want to see _him_. If he saw _him_, there was a large possibility that Sano would lose his temper. Because how dare Kenshin not help Yahiko when the kid was being beaten to death; how dare Kenshin not do everything in his power to save Midori from that white-haired bastard when little Tsubame told him she was still alive? Midori fucking loved Kenshin, and this was how her love was repaid? By a giant pity-party and abandonment? What bullshit.

The hand that had been clutching his for the entire fucking boat-ride squeezed again.

"Please."

Well, shit. Apparently, Sano was going to be escorting Midori to Rakuninmura so she could see the shell that was Kenshin.

"Sure, _aibou_. Whatever you want."

Even if he'd rather swallow acid, to be honest.

* * *

Saito idly puffed on his cigarett, his yellow eyes watching the slumped form currently occupying the ship's only cell - the brig, if he recalled the terminaligy correctly. The young man hadn't moved or made a sound since Saito's men had locked the cell door behind them; the prisoner had been in the exact same slumped position, with that tattered old book clutched in his hands as though it were treasure of some sort.

If the former wolf of Mibu had a heart, he might have felt sorry for the pathetic figure who was Enishi Yukishiro.

Possibly.

Then again, the brat had been the cause for an obscene amount of paperwork for Saito - more of which awaited the officer once Yukishiro was safely in jail. There was only so much of it Saito would be able to push off onto that broomheaded moron Chou before he threw a fit. That was the problem with allowing his subordinates to grow spines: they rebelled at doing his paperwork that much faster, forcing him to be that much more intimidating as he squashed them. Yukishiro was just one walking, talking headache waiting to happen. Saito was amazed the _youma_ had lasted so long around the man without losing what was left of her mind; it was truly admirable.

However...

Saito was a former captain of the Shinsengumi. As such, he followed his own personal code of justice: that of _Aku Soku Zan_. The pathetic young man who sat huddled in the cell before him was not worthy of such justice. He was little more than a beaten animal.

Which is why, once the ship finally docked in Tokyo, Saito had no trouble unlocking Yukishiro's cell; uncuffing the shackles from Yukishiro's wrists and ankles; returning Yukishiro's _nihontou_ to it's rightful owner; and then walking out of the depths of the ship without so much as a twinge to his conscience. Enishi Yukishiro had recently learnt that his purpose in life was meaningless; his weapons organization in China had been abandoned; and his second-in-command had been butchered by the _youma_. He was not a threat to the country of Japan, whatever the fools who ran the Meiji might have thought to the contrary. Even as he watched the _youma_ disappear with that rooster-headed moron, knowing that they were going to the Battousai and that Yukishiro had jumped ship to follow them, Saito couldn't be bothered to care. The _youma_ could take care of herself, the rooster could use a good thrashing, and the Battousai...

Well.

The Battousai's well-being was neither a priority, nor was it a concern of one Hajime Saito. That was just the way things were.

* * *

"You sure you want to do this alone?"

Midori nodded once, forcing herself to release Sanosuke's hand. She did not want him to go to Kenshin with her. She could feel the rage coming off of her friend in waves; she knew that if he went with her to Kenshin, the thread upon which his temper was dangling would snap. In spite of everything, Midori still did not want to see anyone strike at Kenshin.

She wanted answers.

She _needed_ answers.

She did not want or need a brawl.

"Wait for me here?" She could not seem to raise her voice above a whisper.

"I'm not goin' anywhere."

She nodded once more in thanks, and then she moved away.

Midori had heard of this place before, of course. She had heard of this haven for those who could not or would not find their own place in the new era of Meiji. She had always scorned the people that populated the Rakuninmura: if she, a dead woman, could live in the era of Meiji, then anyone should be able to do so. Only weaklings and those who did not care to live ran to hide in the Rakuninmura.

And now...

"Oi."

Midori paused. In front of her stood four men in ragged, filthy clothing. All of them carried a club of one kind or the other. All of them were staring at her as though they did not know what to make of her.

"Who're you, woman?" one of them asked roughly.

"What're you doing here?" another spat. "This isn't any place for you, lady. Turn around and go home."

"I am looking for someone," Midori murmured, ignoring their words as though they had not spoken. "A man with -"

"Oi, lady, we said get lost. You shouldn't be here. Go home."

She paused again, pushed down the urge to hurt the man who had interrupted her. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. "A man with red hair and a cross-shaped scar on his cheek. Do you know where this man is?"

The four in front of her exchanged looks between each other. The only one to have so far remained silent, a tall man with a patch over one eye, stepped forward slightly.

"You talking about the samurai?" he questioned, an annoyed look on his face. "That guy's had several people come here trying to talk him out of this place. Don't waste your time, lady. You should just turn around and go home."

He was still here. She would see him.

Midori calmly skirted around the group of men and walked onwards, determinded to continue her search.

So many people here; so many empty eyes following her as she searched. So many empty shells who had given up all hope and resigned themselves to waist away in this trash heap. And to think that the man who had brought light and warmth to her life was here somewhere, wallowing in his own misery and leaving her to whatever fate might befall her...it sickened her. It infuriated her. Kenshin had told her time and again that he loved her; he had seemed content and willing to spend the rest of his life with her. _He had asked her to marry him._

So where in the seven hells had he been when she _needed_ him?

A slight pressure upon her head had Midori stopping in her tracks even as the sound of birdsong filled the air. Perturbed, Midori carefully reached up and extracted a small yellow mass of feathers from her hair, eyeing the creature as it continued to chirp happily in her loose grasp.

"_Konnichi wa_! I see my friend likes you, _okami_. Are you new around here?"

Weary green eyes turned to the source of the voice. An old man was bouncing up to her from the left, several more small yellow birds flittering around him like a moving halo. He was dressed in ragged clothing, covered in dirt, wearing cracked glasses and a sadly patched old hat. He was smiling - almost beaming at her - revealing many missing teeth behind his long white mustache. His knotted white beard nearly dragged the ground as he bounced up to her.

"I do not intend to stay here," Midori responded, releasing the bird she held and watching as it flew to join it's brethren in their circular flight around the old one's head. "I am looking for someone."

"Oh I see! Come to visit a friend, have you? That's great! It's always nice to have friends come to visit!"

"This is not a social visit. Can you tell me where I can find a man with red hair and a cross-shaped scar on his left cheek?"

The smile fell from the old man's face with alarming speed. His whole demeanor seemed to droop; the happy-go-lucky atmosphere that had previously radiated from him dimmed into something more serious.

"You are here to see Samurai-san, then?" he asked, voice quiet and completely devoid of the cheer that had been dripping from his words just moments before. Midori nodded once, and the old man let out a tired sigh.

"_Okami_, I have to say that I do not know if seeing him would be a good idea. He is...not the same, I would think, as the man you remember. He has not had much to eat or drink since coming to live with us; we think he is trying to die. His body is wasting away and he is allowing that to happen. With his condition, it might be a shock for you to see what -"

"I do not care what he looks like," Midori interrupted harshly. "I am aware that Himura would not be taking adequate care of himself. I am aware that he will look like shit and likely will be extremely ill. But you are wrong if you think that changes the fact that I will tear this dump apart if I must to find him, old man. Show me where he is or stay out of my way."

The old man bowed his head slightly. "As you wish."

* * *

She had left him. The phantom that once stood with her back to him was gone.

Dull purple eyes stared unseeingly at the ground.

Maybe now he could finally follow his real kabu to the afterlife. Maybe his delusion was gone because he would be with the real thing soon.

"Himura."

He could hear her voice now, calling his name from wherever her spirit waited for him. Did she know how he longed to join her? Did she long for him as he did for her?

"Himura."

He wanted to answer her, but he knew that she would not hear him. She was dead.

Abruptly a foot flashed into his line of vision and buried itself into his stomach. Before he had time to do more than register the pain, a small hand was wrapping itself around his upper arm and jerked him to his feet. As soon as he was standing the hand let go, drew back as it balled itself into a fist, and smashed into his scarred cheek with enough force to send him toppling again. He tasted blood in his mouth from having his cheek ground so harshly against his teeth.

"Do not **_dare_** ignore me, you fucking bastard."

...that voice..._her_ voice...

Slowly, wearily, Kenshin Himura lifted his head to lock eyes with the woman standing over his huddled form.

He had to be hallucinating; that was the only logical explanation for what he was seeing. She could not possibly be standing there before him. She was dead. He had seen her body sitting pinned to the wall of the dojo, seen her blood splattered on the floors and the gods-awful copy of his scar carved into her beautiful face. He had seen the total emptiness in her cat-like green eyes, felt the chill of her lifeless skin.

His precious kabu, his beautiful Midori, was dead.

She was not standing over him, dirty and thin with large black rings under her dull green eyes, body shaking for unknown reasons as she glowered at him.

He had to be hallucinating.

The hallucination's face clouded over in a mixure of confusion and worry; it knelt before him, eyes on his face.

"Why do you just sit there?" it demanded angrily, wrapping trembling arms around it's own torso. "Must I beat the words you should be saying from you, Himura? Do you simply not give a shit anymore? About me? About the others? About _anything_? Are you just going to stay here and die, when I have come here to you in spite of your abandonment of me? _Why didn't you come for me, you fucking bastard_? When you were told that I lived, _why did you not come for me_?"

Lived? His kabu had not lived; she was dead. He had seen and touched her body in the aftermath of her murder. She was dead, gone forever to a place he could not follow.

The hallucination was suddenly much, much closer to him. In a blink one of it's hands shot out and clamped down around Kenshin's throat, squeezing hard enough to compress the windpipe and causing Kenshin to gag.

"Answer me, damn you! _Why didn't you come for me?_ You would have moved the stars if you could have saved your precious Yukishiro bitch! You would have turned the world upon its head to save _her! _Why not with me? Why did you abandon me to the mercies of Enishi, after everything I have done and given up for you?"

Had he been inclined to answer, Kenshin would have been prevented from doing so by the tight grip upon his throat. A fist bashed into his face again, causing stars to explode in his vision even as the now weeping phantom struck him again and again. How was this even possible? Was the pain real because this creature hurting him was a figment of his own imagination? Or was the pain real because...because...

The fist aiming for his face was caught in a weary hand. Using his other hand to pry the fingers from around his neck as his assailiant sat sobbing in front of him, Kenshin tentatively breathed out, "Kabu?"

Pain lanced across her face. She jerked her hands from his grip, clamping them over her ears as she violently shook her head in denial.

"DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME THAT AGAIN! NOT AFTER ABANDONING ME AS YOU DID! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT, FUCKING BASTARD!"

It was her. She was real. She was alive.

She was alive.

Kenshin was on her in an instant. In the time it takes one to blink, Kenshin had Midori wrapped in a vice-like hug; her body was pressed tightly against his chest while he buried his face into her dirt-streaked hair. He felt her flinch, felt her begin to pull away from him, but he refused to let go of her. His kabu was alive, she was here, and she was in his arms. He had no intention of _ever_ letting her go, _ever_.

And then he was hitting the ground, his _sakabatou_ out of his reach; his kabu was shouting something, she was turned away from him and she was shouting, and another voice was speaking to her in a tone of devoted affection.

"Go _away_. Leave me alone, you bastard! You have done enough to me, while I have done nothing to you that makes me deserving of this pain! What more do you want from me, Yukishiro? _What_?"

Ice invaded Kenshin's innards. Yukishiro? Enishi was here? Kenshin struggled to get up, tried to force his wasted body to move. He needed to get his kabu out of here, now. What if Enishi hurt her? What if he took her away from Kenshin again? No, he wouldn't let that happen! He refused to lose her again, no!

"I won't hurt you." That quiet, loving voice spoke again; Kenshin wondered wildly who in the world was talking to his kabu like that. Would the speaker protect her from Enishi? Would they keep her safe?

"Ka...bu..." he rasped, his arms quivering as he attempted to push himself up. A frustrated huff was heard from Midori; she turned and came to him, grabbing his upper arm in a bruising grip and jerking him to his feet.

"Shut up, Himura. Yukishiro, if you do not get out of my way I will relieve you of your arms. Go away, stay here, return to China; I do not care what you do, as long as I never have to see your face again."

Enishi was standing right in front of them, clutching his nihontou in one hand and a tattered book in the other.

Kenshin immediately - if shakily - wrapped his arms around Midori, spun them both on the spot, and presented his back to Enishi as he tried his damndest to insure that he had as much of Midori's body blocked by his own as possible.

"Don't hurt her," he croaked, barely loud enough for his own ears. "Please. Just kill me. Don't hurt her."

"If you touch him, I will gut you," Midori snarled. "I will play with your intestines while you die."

"I won't touch him."

As soon as those words were spoken, Midori was pulling out of his grasp and Kenshin found himself being half-led, half-dragged past the man who was his brother-in-law. The man who had come so close to killing him weeks ago. The man who Kenshin thought had killed his precious kabu.

The man who made no move whatsoever to touch either Kenshin or Midori as they passed him, and who had just spoken to Midori in a tone one would use when speaking to one's lover.

"Kabu," Kenshin whispered, stumbling along beside the woman he loved on his tired, weak legs. "Kabu, please, I do not understand. I...I saw you...you were dead. You were so cold...there was so much blood...how are you alive now?"

"Perhaps if you had paid attention to what Tsubame-chan told you when Yahiko-chan was being beaten to death by the man whose hand you cut off, you would know the answer to that question," she informed him coldly, her tone making his heart plunge into his stomach even as goosebumps erupted upon his skin. "But no, you were too busy wallowing. You disgust me, Battousai. Save your questions for one of the other friends you abandoned. As for right now, you can do me a favor and shut up."

Kenshin flinched, his faded lavender eyes widening as he stared, horrified, at his kabu's profile.

She...she had called him Battousai...but she had not called him that in well over a year...not since right after they were first reunited...

So why...

Why...

_Oh_, _gods_.

**_No_**.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was like a computerized personification of evil. It branded me and made me it's complete, total little bitch. I've rewritten it a hundred times and if it were a sentinent being I would take unholy pleasure in making it suffer horrible pain.

Please review.


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

_When she steps into her father's house for the first time in nearly twenty years, the first thing her eyes see is her mother, wrapped in blankets and sitting on a stool in front of the fire._

_The second thing she sees is the mirror image of her father - though much smaller - kneeling by her mother's side._

_"Konnichi wa," the boy trills in a childishly high voice, smiling shyly at her as their father shuts the door and moves to stand by his wife._

_"Koishii, we have a guest," he announces, reaching out a hand to gently smooth over his wife's hair. "Please, okami, come closer to the fire. Warm yourself. Tomio-chan, fetch a bowl of stew for our guest."_

_Zetsumei Kurohyou watches as her little brother scurries to gather a meal for her, her eyes tracking his every movement even as the sound of his name mocks her. Tomio. Treasured man. Tomio. Treasured._

_His eyes are plain brown, just like their father's eyes._

_When he comes up to her with a bowl of steaming stew, that shy little smile still on his face, she slowly shifts her gaze from her brother to her parents._

_"How old is your son?" she asks quietly, making no move to take the proffered food._

_"Tomio-chan is six years old, okami." Her father smiles proudly at his son. "We were blessed with him rather late in life, but he is a blessing none-the-less."_

_A blessing. This normal little boy, born while she was in Kyoto butchering people every night, was loved by their family and considered a blessing._

_"If his eyes had been green, would you have sold him into slavery, too?"_

_The boy lets out a shocked yelp, the bowl of stew falling to shatter on the floor, when Zetsumei Kurohyou lifts him into the air by the back collar of his gi. She lifts him until his face is level with her own, her green eyes now visible behind the spiky curtain of her bangs as she stares at her father._

_"My otouto does not look so terribly different from me, does he, outou-sama?"_

_Her mother looks up, catching sight of the green green eyes as she does, and lets out a scream._

_"The eyes! The eyes!"_

_"Release my son, woman, and remove yourself from my house!" Her father advances upon her, fury in his eyes and his hands raised as though to grab her. Her mother jumps from her stool and latches herself onto his arm, screaming and shaking her head no._

_"Look at it's eyes, you fool, it's eyes! It is the demon spawn, come again to kill us all!"_

_Her brother begins to flail in her grip, crying and beseeching their parents for help. Kurohyou's eyes swing back to him._

_"You are not in danger, little one," she tells him, voice far softer than anyone expected. "I might be a monster, but I do not kill children."_

_"Don't speak to my son, demon's spawn!" their mother screams, still holding tight to their father's arm._

_The boy is still crying, eyeing Kurohyou with fear plain in his eyes even as she gently sets him back on his feet, careful of the shattered pottery. She very deliberately keeps a hold on the back of his gi, knowing that he would run to the safety of their parents if she were to release him. She crouches down in front of him, putting herself between him and their parents as she studies his little face. Upon entering the hut she had observed that the boy looked much like their father. Now that she is so much closer to him, she can pick out the subtle differences: the slight upward tilt at the corners of his eyes, the thinner nose, the barely higher cheekbones. Her brother has the potential to be a very good looking man some day._

_She carefully wipes his tears away with her thumb, ignoring their mother's continued words behind her._

_"Who...who are you?" her brother whimpers, shrinking back from her as much as he can with her hand still fisted in the back of his gi. She smiles gently at him._

_"You may call me Kurohyou." The idea of speaking the name her Myoushu gave her, in front of the parents who referred to her simply as 'it' or 'demon spawn', leaves a vile taste in her mouth._

_"W-why are you here?" Tomoi stutters. Kurohyou opens her mouth to answer and pauses. She cannot answer him. She stood outside this hut for three hours in the rain without being able to justify being here. Why **is** she here?_

_"I am not quite sure," she murmurs, as much to herself as to her brother._

_"I suppose..."_

_And that is it. As she says those two little words, the answer to the question of her motive is clear in her mind. Decided, she focuses again on her brother and says, "I suppose I wanted to ask my parents a question that has haunted me for twenty years."_

_Her brother looks terribly confused. His tears have mostly stopped now, and he rubs at his face with the sleeve of his gi, sniffling._

_"But - but your parents don't live here," he informs her with a child's innocent surety. He points his finger behind her. "**My** parents do."_

_"Yes, I know." She stands, gently guiding the boy so that when she turns to her parents he is in front of her. With a soft nudge, she pushes him towards them; her mother is quick to abandon her father and snatch the boy from the floor, pressing him tightly to her chest._

_"Get out, you monster," her father snarls, planting himself between Kurhyou and the other two. "Get out of my home."_

_"In a moment," she assures him softly, eyes still fixed on the part of his chest that was now in front of her brother's. "First I want an answer to my question."_

_"What question?" The words are spat at her, dripping with fear and loathing. Ever-so-slowly Zetsumei Kurohyou moves her eyes up until she meets her father's gaze. Carefully and deliberately, she repeats the question she had asked minutes ago, already knowing the answer._

_"If his eyes had been green, would you have sold him into slavery, too?"_

* * *

Enishi sits on the recently repaired roof of the living quarters at the Kamiya Dojo, his hands loosely gripping his _onee_-_sama's_ diary while his ears pick up the quiet conversation below him.

"He is severly malnourished. I treated his wounds before he disappeared, but some of them have become infected in the passing weeks. He is very sick."

"But he'll live, won't he Megumi-san?" the Kamiya girl asks in a quiet voice, probably trying to hide the quiver there.

"I think so. It will take time, but once I rid his wounds of infection they should heal just fine. He'll need to eat mostly fluids for a while until his body is stable enough to digest solids. He'll need plenty of bed rest. You'll have to keep an eye on his, Kaoru-chan, while I'm at the clinic. I had planned to leave soon, to go home to Aizu; but I can't leave Ken-san in this condition."

The next words are spoken so lowly that Enishi almost misses them. They are definately much quieter than anything else Enishi has ever heard Sagara say, and they are dripping with both anger and concern.

"Great, he'll live. So have either of you got any idea on how we're supposed to help Midori? Or are we just gonna keep pretending that nothin's wrong with her now that she's back with us?"

No answer is given to Sagara's questions, and the conversation goes quiet.

_Midori_. Her name is _Midori_.

He has not seen her since they arrived back at this dojo, the Battousai practically being carried by..._Midori_...and Sagara glaring at Enishi and the Battousai with an equal amount of loathing. She had dumped the Battousai at the lady doctor's feet before shutting herself into the training dojo, closing the door in Enishi's face when he had attempted to follow her. He had retreated to this patch of the roof instead, planning to wait for her away from the others but close enough to be on hand when she emerges.

That was around noontime. Now the sun has gone to sleep in the west, the ninja and his little kunoichi have left to find lodgings in town, and his woman has yet to come out.

Enishi carefully tucks his _onee_-_sama's_ diary into the back waistband of his Chinese-style trousers before standing and jumping off of the roof.

"Don't you dare go bother her, you ugly white-haired freak-bastard."

The little boy is sitting in front of the doors to the dojo, his arms crossed over his chest. A _bokken_ hangs from his back, and a fierce scowl adorns his beat-up face as he glares at Enishi.

"She doesn't want to see you," the boy snaps, his brown eyes alight with malice. "Or did you miss the way she slammed these doors in your ugly freak-face? Get lost, you stupid bastard. I won't let you hurt her again."

Enishi regards the boy calmly, eyes scanning and catalouging all of the injuries he can see above the boy's clothing. He looks a mess - Enishi knows that the injuries come from a fight with Kujiranami some days ago, and is vaguely impressed that this child managed to hold his own in a fight against the one-armed mammoth. Right now, however, the boy is simply in the way.

"You're in my way, brat," Enishi informs him bluntly. He makes a rude shooing gesture with his hand. "Move."

"Screw you."

Enishi is surprised to feel his lips trying to form a smile. This kid has guts, no doubt about that. Enishi advances upon the boy, who immediately jumps to his feet and pulls his _bokken_ off his back. The boy is fully prepared to do whatever is neccessary to keep Enishi from 'bothering'..._Midori_. Of course, the first swing the boy makes is easily caught in Enishi's hand. It is laughably simply to yank the _bokken_ out of the kid's grasp and toss it away over his own shoulder. To his credit, this does nothing to make the boy move out of Enishi's way; instead he launches himself at the older man, grabbing onto him and sinking his teeth into an arm with an animalistic snarl of rage and hatred. Annoyed, if slightly impressed by the boy's bravery, Enishi pries the brat off and holds him - kicking and cursing and swinging his fists - several feet off of the ground by the back of his _gi_.

He never hears the dojo's doors open; doesn't register that she is there until her blade is pressed against his throat and her nose is barely an inch from his own. His hand is empty - the boy is being gently pushed behind her body even as she forces Enishi to back up with additional pressure on her _katana_. She pushes him back until they are standing nearly in the middle of the courtyard, a respectable distance from the boy, before she removes her blade from his skin and steps away from him - all the while keeping herself between Enishi and the brat by the dojo.

"Don't touch him."

Her voice makes his skin crawl unpleasantly; it is something that belongs to a corpse, a ghost, not a live human being. Her eyes are similarly disturbing: dull, glassy, and lifeless like the eyes of a newly dead body. It is as though all life has simply drained out of her.

"Why are you still here?"

Enishi shrugs, uncomfortable under the gaze of those dead eyes and trying to shake off the crawling sensation her voice brings with it.

"I wanted to see you," he tells her, his own voice soft and low. "I wouldn't have hurt the brat; I just wanted to check that you were alright. He was in the way."

"I told you to leave."

He shrugs again. "I didn't listen."

Something like fury breifly sparks in her eyes before they return to their dulled state. "You are trespassing. You will ask Kaoru if she will allow your presence. If she says no, you will leave."

He takes a step towards her. "If I go, will you come with me?"

Her hand clinches tightly around her weapon's hilt. "No."

Enishi glances behind her to the boy, glances over to the door behind which her other friends sit. Quietly, in Chinese, he tells her, "I love you. I could make you happy. All you have to do is come with me, and I will spend my life doing anything I can to make you happy."

"No."

He nods, having expected her to answer such, in Chinese and in the negative. "I love you."

"I don't care."

He nods again, taking another step towards her, putting her within arm's reach. "I know."

"Then why are you still here?" she snaps hoarsely; she looks to be shaking, from what Enishi can't determine. "You know that I do not return your..._feelings_. There is no reason for you to be here! Just leave, Enishi!"

Enishi very slowly reaches out to brush the backs of his fingers against the sleeve of her _gi_. The cloth trembles slightly against his skin; he can feel the heat of her arm beneath it.

His name in her voice is echoing in his ears. She has never called him by his first name before.

"I just...want to be near you," he tells her.

It is the truth. Even though she has said that she will hate him forever, even though she still loves the Battousai, even though she very obviously could care less if tomorrow Enishi drops off the face of the earth, Enishi still wants to be close to her. Her presence soothes him somehow, makes the _onee_-_sama_ who lives in his soul smile again. Enishi will do anything if he doesn't have to lose that. He _needs_ to be close to her.

He closes his hand on her sleeve and whispers, "_Midori_."

Something like terror engulfs her face and her _katana_ clatters to the ground.

"It is a good name for you," Enishi says, making his voice as gentle as possible. "I overheard your friends talking; they didn't know I could hear. I want to stay with this woman called Midori; I want to get to know her, I want her to know me. I want to keep her safe. I want to make her happy."

Slowly, ever-so-slowly, Enishi tugs the woman to him until he can wrap his arms around her and hold her in a gentle embrace. He can here the boy start yelling foul words over by the dojo, but ignores him.

"Let _me_ know Midori," he presses her gently, his nose in her hair.

"You can't," she whispers. "I can't. She only exists for him. Only for him. Without him there's nothing. Just death and blood and ashes. Just ashes."

_**"WHAT THE HELL'D YOU DO TO HER, BASTARD!"**_

The boy is at their side, hitting Enishi repeatedly in the back with the newly recovered _bokken_ as he tries to wriggle his way between them. Enishi releases her and backs away without a fuss, letting the boy position himself defensively in front of Midori. There are tears on Midori's face.

"Ask Kaoru if you can stay here," she repeats dully, gazing listlessly at a point somewhere just over Enishi's right shoulder. "If she says no you need to leave."

With that said, she picks up both her discarded _katana_ and - much to his vocal surprise - the boy before disappearing back into the dojo. The doors shut tight, and Enishi is alone in the courtyard.

* * *

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Do you want me to get Sano? Do you need Megumi? You're doing that shaking thing again, are you having an attack? What do I do?"

Yahiko knew he was babbling, but couldn't bring himself to care as he hovered anxiously over Midori's seated form. He was worried about her. He was still pissed at Kenshin for being a spineless loser. He wanted to strangle the white-haired freak-bastard hanging around in Busu's courtyard as if he had a right to be there.

Damnit, he just wanted things to go back to normal. Everybody was alive, right? Everybody was home again, right?

So why was everything _still_ all screwed up?

Midori surprised him when she reached out and grabbed his hand, the one not holding onto his _bokken_ in a white knuckled grip, which she used to pull him down until he was sitting next to her. Even more shocking was how after he was sitting, Midori set her _katana_ aside, laid down sideways on the floor,_ and put her head in Yahiko's lap_.

_What the_ **_HELL_**_?_

Yahiko had never seen her put her head in anybody's lap except Kenshin's.

He had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do now. Damnit, where was Sano when he needed him? Sano was older, he'd be better at this kind of stuff.

"I want to sleep," Midori whispered softly; her voice was so quiet that even in the stillness of the empty training dojo Yahiko could just barely hear her.

"Um...you wanna go back to your room?" he asked stupidly, having no idea what to say.

Midori shook her head where it lay in his lap. "Right here. Would you mind terribly if I asked to use your lap as a pillow for a few hours?"

She wanted to sleep in the dojo? Yahiko stared at her in confusion for a long moment before scowling slightly and shrugging his shoulders.

"Sure, whatever," he grumbled, wondering if he would catch any ribbing about someone as gorgeous as Midori sleeping with her head in Yahiko's lap and then deciding her need was great enough to be worth the annoying banter he'd be forced to endure.

There is silence again in the dojo for a long time. It isn't until Yahiko, on the verge of dozing off, felt wetness on his thigh that he realized Midori was crying silently into the fabric of his _hakama_. Panicking, Yahiko frantically began rubbing circles in Midori's back - his mother did that for him a long time ago when he was a little kid, any time he got sick or cried.

"Don't cry," he blurted out, at a complete loss as to what he should do to help her and wishing desperately for Sano. "C'mon, Midori, it'll be okay. Me and Sano'll protect you. Quit cryin'."

"Did you know that I have a brother out there somewhere, Yahiko?" Midori mumbled, her voice thick with tears andd muffled in his pant leg. "He'd be about your age. I met him for the first time a little over three years ago."

Yahiko didn't have a clue what in the world he was supposed to say to that, and all he could work up was a feeble little "Oh."

"They named him Tomoi. Tomoi is my _outoto's_ name, and all they ever called me was 'it' or 'demon spawn'. S-sold me i-into slavery just b-b-because...just because of m-my fucking eyes...and they called him _Tomoi_!" And that statement quickly put paid to Midori's silent tears. Instead she just buried her head deeper into his thigh and wailed like some kind of wounded animal.

"E-every time...every time I hear _her_ n-name...I see my _outoto's_ f-face next to hers...and know th-that they were b-both picked over m-me. And it _hurts_. _Why_ does it h-have to hurt _so fucking bad?"_

Yahiko felt like he was going to throw up. He waited, nauseated, but Midori didn't say anything else after that. She just laid there with her head in his lap and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

When she woke, it was to the pale light of dawn and Yahiko's quiet snores - and Sanosuke's hand on the small of her back.

For a long moment, Midori seriously considered ignoring her rooster-haired friend and simply going back to sleep. She didn't want to face the day. She didn't want to face harsh reality. Her dreams - nightmares included - would surely be preferable.

But...

She needed to see him.

She needed answers.

She wanted to look him in the face and make him tell her why she was never good enough.

"_Aibou_," Sanosuke whispered, keeping his voice quiet in a bid not to disturb Yahiko.

Midori cracked open one eye and peered wearily at him.

"He's awake."

Her eye closed again for a long moment before she sighed, opening both orbs and carefully removing the weight of her head from Yahiko's thigh as she rose. Wordlessly she followed Sanosuke as he led the way to Kenshin, as she had shut hersel up in the dojo yesterday without waiting to see where Megumi would put him. She vaguely registered Enishi's presence on the roof; she wondered if he had spent the night up there.

Sanosuke came to a stop.

"Megumi headed back to her place to sleep for a while about an hour ago," he informed her quietly. "I made Jou-chan go to bed, too. You want me in there with you, or do you want privacy?"

"Privacy," she whispered immediately. "Please."

Without a single protest Sanosuke turned and went to sit at the edge of the porch, leaning sideways against a support beam with his hands still stuffed in his pockets. With her eyes firmly planted on the floor, Midori slid the shoji open, walked into the room, and closed the portal behind her with a snap. There was a long, torturous moment of silence before her ears picked up the rustling of cloth in front and to the left of her. Steeling herself, she forced her eyes to leave the floor and meet the faded lavender currently sweeping her figure.

Kenshin Himura looked just as pathetic as he had the last time she saw him, when she literally dumped him at Megumi's feet and left him there to be taken care of. He was without a _gi_; instead a thick padding of bandages covered his torso and looped over his left shoulder. A memory of him lying in a growing pool of his own blood forced itself into Midori's mind; she quickly squashed it, as well as the shiver trying to work its way up her spine.

Aside from the intensive bandages, Kenshin looked like someone twice as old as he actually was. There were a pair of truly horrid bags beneath his faded eyes; his hair was filthy and had lost it's radiance; his body was shrunken from lack of food. The effect was...disturbing. Midori had never seen Kenshin in such terrible condition; not even after the death of his wife had he sunk this far. She wondered if that had only been because she had been there for him to lean on at the time; would he have come so close to killing himself after Tomoe Yukishiro died had Midori not been there to make sure he didn't do so?

Did he act like this the fist time he thought Midori was dead, when he followed his orders like a good little pawn and put his blade through her chest himself? Did he sink into himself, decline food and water, let himself waste away to something similar to what sat before her now? She doubted it; if Kenshin had let himself go like this all those years ago, their backstabbing superiors would have tried to get rid of him, too. What good, after all, is a killer who is too busy moping himself to death to kill others?

_What makes this time so different?_ Midori silently wondered, moving to sit cross-legged with her back to the wall on the opposite side of the room from Kenshin. _Is it simply harder now because he did not kill me himself? Or is it guilt that his past actions caused my supposed death this time?_

"Kabu."

Slightly surprised that he would be the one to break the silence, Midori lifted an eyebrow in his general direction. For reasons that her mind refused to address, she found herself unable to face him. She tried; her head simply refused to move as she willed it. Something was wrong with her: her eyes were prickling strangely, and she seemed to have some sort of weight - apparently invisibly, if her downward glance was anything to go by - sitting upon her chest.

"Are you...are you alright?"

There was a loud, ringing, shrieking silence for a long time as every muscle in Midori's body tensed and her mind replayed Kenshin's words over and over again. Are you alright? Are you alright? _Areyoualright_**areyoualright_areyoualright_** -

Midori burst out laughing. She wrapped her arms around herself, bent over her knees as she pulled them nearly to her chest, and just screamed with laughter at the sheer idiocy of Kenshin's question. Was she alright? After getting the shit beaten out of her; being kidnapped by his insane former brother-in-law; being stuck with said brother-in-law alone on an island for weeks; having him develope feelings for her; developing an attachment of sorts to him; being seemingly abandoned by the man she loved; having numerous heart-injury related seizures _and butchering five people_, Kenshin was asking her is she was _alright_? Was he _brain damaged_? Midori pondered this as she moved to put her head in her hands and continued howling.

She was never sure afterwards when her laughter became tears. For all she knew, perhaps she had burst into tears in the first place. What she did know was that at some point as she wailed, Kenshin had risen and come to her side, pulling her into his lap and holding her against his chest as though afraid she would vanish if he released her. He held her, rocked her back and forth like a child, and stroked his fingers through her hair as she screamed at him; as she demanded that he tell her why he had abandoned her, why she wasn't ever good enough, why he was never there when she needed him most. He made no attempt to answer; he merely sat there and held her until her voice gave out on her, and then sat there and held her as she sobbed into his chest.

"_Why_?" Midori rasped out some time later, tears dripping from her chin to his chest as she clenched and unclenched her hand in the fabric covering his lower thigh. "Why, _why_, **_why_**?"

And still Kenshin said nothing.

Perhaps, Midori considered as she sobbed her heart out against his chest and he held her as though he could absorb her if he tried hard enough, Kenshin said nothing because he knew as well as she did that there truly was nothing he could say that would make this better.

Or perhaps he said nothing because he did not know the answer any better than she did.

Why, indeed.

* * *

_"What will you do when this war is over?"_

_Zetsumei Kurohyou eyes her unwanted companion over her half-empty sake jug, but for once Makoto Shishio's obsessive gaze is not directed at her. The killer is instead lying back against the roof of the inn in which their comrades sleep, his hands behind his head as a makeshift pillow, watching the stars with those strange red eyes. He is smiling faintly, a strange expression for him; Kurohyou cannot recall ever seeing him smile so...peacefully before._

_She looks away from him, weary eyes going back to her sake jug as she takes a generous swig. She wonders idly why it is that Shishio seems to be able to find her with ease no matter where she hides; she came up here after completing her assignments to drink and be alone, not drink and put up with her psychotic partner. Sadly, she knows from experiance that commanding him to fuck off will do her no good - the world is not so kind that she can expect someone like Makoto Shishio to listen to her._

_"I doubt that I will survive this war," Kurohyou mutters by way of an answer. She is tired; so tired of everything in her life now. Her very bones ache with weariness as she considers the possibility of a future in which she is no longer a hitokiri. A life of peace, like the one she led with Myoushu before his murder, is a completely foreign concept to her now. The idea that a day will come when she no longer butchers people ever night and then drowns herself in liquor sounds like a childish dream._

_It is not that she particularly cares that she kills people; being a killer does not bother her the way it does Kenshin. It is simply what she does, what she is. She excels in ending the lives of others. It seems somehow fitting to her, that one with the eyes of a predator would make such an effecient killing machine. Almost as though she were born to kill._

_But now the war is dying. The Shogunates are dropping like flies and soon the Ishin Shishi will seize complete power. Peace will be returned._

_And Zetsumei Kurohyou will cease to exist._

_What will be left when she is gone?_

_Shishio chuckles, glancing at her for a moment with a grin on his handsome face._

_"Hypothetically, then," he drawls out snidely. "Pretend you were just informed that the war's ending tomorrow. What would you do with the rest of your life, little panther? Get married? Be a model Japanese housewife complete with kimono and geta? Have a dozen little brats to carry on your husband's family name?"_

_Kurohyou cannot help but smile slightly at the absurdity of having this type of conversation with Makoto Shishio, of all people. She shrugs her shoulders._

_"I do not know what I would do, should the war miraculously end tomorrow," she tells him. "I have not given thought to a possible future. The idea of marriage...having children...that means nothing to me. Why would I put myself under the yoke of a man? Why would I be cruel enough to force a child to endure a mother such as myself?"_

_"Such as yourself?"_

_She snorts, gesturing to herself with one hand. "A monster. A killer. A demon. The idea of my being a suitable mother to anyone is ridiculous. The idea of there being a chance that I would meet a sane man who would want to spend his life with me is completely ludicrous."_

_Shishio's grin turns feral. "Not even your precious Battousai?"_

_Only Shishio's lightening fast reflexes save him from having an empty sake jug smashed into his face. The jug sails off the roof instead; the sound of pottery smashing when it hits the ground is quite loud in the silence. Shishio's laughter is just as loud and infinitely more annoying._

_He either doesn't notice or chooses to willfully ignore the single tear that falls to the roof from his partner, right before she jumps down and silently disappears._

_Broken dreams are not his concern, anyway._

* * *

A/N: Real life has a tendency to be a bitch, and is therefore not condusive to having time to indulge in writing fanfiction. In other words, yeah, so it's been a few moths; so sue me.


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

_Midori quirks an eyebrow at Tae as she is led to sit at an empty table near the back of the Akabeko. The other woman just smiles at her and walks away, instructing Midori over her shoulder not to go anywhere. If Midori weren't already suspicious that something is going on, Tae's tone is enough to have alarm bells ringing loudly in her head._

_Why does Tae want Midori at the Akabeko so badly that she would send little Tsubame-chan to the Kamiya Dojo to collect her? Why didn't Kenshin or any of the others come with her? Why did they all spontaneously run off while Tsubame-chan led Midori **by the hand** all the way to the restaurant?_

_This whole situation is just odd, and Midori is not amused._

_Suddenly, several faces appear alarmingly close to her own. A canophy of voices scream out, **"SURPRISE!" **__even as Midori makes a dive for her katana. In the next second she is on her feet with weapon in hand, and she lunges across her little table at the closest body - not once registering the face._

___"Oh shit!"_

**___"KABU, NO!"_**

_Midori is tackled in midair from the left, throwing her body into the wall near her table hard enough to set stars rotating around her head. She clumsily tries to elbow the person on top of her in the face, but due to being stunned from the collision with the wall she is unable to make contact._

_"Kabu, stop it! Please don't elbow me in the face! I'm sorry I tackled you but you were about to hurt Yahiko! **Kabu**!"_

_Midori stops trying to break the nose of the person sitting on top of her back when she realizes that it is Kenshin. At the same time, her brain replays the instant just before the shouting started; she sees all those faces again, and this time she recognizes them._

_Kenshin, Sanosuke, Kaoru, Yahiko, Megumi._

_...Whoops._

_Several minutes of profuse apologies later, Midori is once again seated at the little table. Kenshin sits on her left, Sano on her right, the other three spread out around the circular surface. All of them are grinning at her in a way that has those little alarm bells in her head ringing frantically again. She shoots a suspicious glance at Kenshin, reaching out to tug gently at his long red bangs._

_"What is this about?"_

_Kenshin teases her fingers out of his hair and places a quick kiss on her knuckles. "We wanted to surpise you, kabu."_

_"You succeeded," she informs him rather dryly. "Was there a purpose behind this surprise aside from scaring ten years off of my life?"_

_Kenshin smiles rather sheepishly. "It's your anniversary."_

_Midori is just slightly baffled by this. "What anniversary?"_

_"The anniversary of the day you came to me."_

_Midori stares at Kenshin for a long moment before turning to Sano and saying, "Would you please tell me what this baka is talking about?"_

_Everyone at the table shares a laugh, and then Sano drags her into a sideways hug and says, "What Kenshin means is that a year ago today I sat down at your table here in the Akabeko and then took you to the dojo when you told me you didn't have a place to stay the night yet."_

_Midori's eyes widen slightly. "That was a year ago today?"_

_"Yup!"_

_Midori doesn't know what to say. They want to celebrate the fact that she has been with them for a year? They are happy about this fact?_

_They are happy that she is here?_

_Midori is suddenly overwhelmed at this act of friendship. She feels tears begin to form in her eyes and quickly bows her head so that her long bangs shadow her face, embarrased by her display of emotion. She has never been so touched in her life. She has never felt so...wanted._

_It is a wonderful feeling._

* * *

Aoshi Shinomori waited patiently until Misao was fully engaged in a conversation with the Kamiya woman before he slipped away in search of Zetsumei Kurohyou. He registered Enishi Yukishiro's presence on the roof of the living quarters; the distrustful glare sent in his direction by the mafia boss was ignored. He was not intimidated by Yukishiro, recognizing him as little threat: if Yukishiro was foolish enough to attack Aoshi, Zetsumei Kurohyou would kill him without hesitation.

Aoshi paused outside of the training dojo, raising his hand and rapping his knuckles against the wood. When he recieved no response, he eased the door open just enough to enter the building before closing it behind him. His keen eyes cut through the gloom of the dimly light room - only the light of the fading sun to see by through the small, high windows in the wall - and locked on the green orbs watching him from a sitting position, in a corner on the opposite side of the room. They were narrowed more than was the norm, and Aoshi immediately realized why.

"I am not your enemy, Zetsumei Kurohyou," he calmly informed her, spreading his empty hands at his sides. Having been allied with Makoto Shishio during his only real interactions with this woman, he had anticipated her reaction to being alone and possibly vulnerable around him. He had therefore made sure to approach her unarmed; his _kodachi_ were in the room alloted for his use. He would not normally approach one such as Zetsumei Kurohyou at all when she was in such an emotional state, but something had today been brought to his attention that needed to be addressed immediately. The Battousai was in no condition to do anything aside from sleeping, and it would be some time before he was back to adequate health. If the Tokyo faction of the Oniwabanshu was correct, then time was not a luxury currently available to them.

"What business does the Okashira have with me?"

Aoshi Shinomori felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end at the sound of that voice. Never before had he heard anything like it; not even after this woman had eliminated five men and learned of the Battousai's abandonment of her had her voice sounded thus. Mastering his initial reaction, Aoshi lowered himself fluidly to kneel upon the floor.

"I have received word from the Oniwabanshu here in Tokyo that a warrant has been issued for the arrest of one Sanosuke Sagara," he informed her bluntly, carefully keeping his voice devoid of inflection.

"For what reason?"

"He is charged with the unprovoked attack against a former Ishin Shishi."

"Bullshit."

Aoshi paused, faintly surprised by her immediate rejoinder in defense of Sagara.

"Sanosuke is not a person who would attack someone without reason. The charge is false."

"That is not the issue," Aoshi reminded her. "It does not matter if the charge is fabricated. If Sagara is arrested, it will be his word against the former Ishin Shishi who has ordered his arrest. You know who will be believed. It is not safe for Sagara here in Japan. I would advise that you help Sagara arrange to leave the country."

"I will not." Again the rejoinder was immediate; something dangerous had crept into the woman's tone as the eyes watching him slowly rose to standing height.

"If Sagara is arrested, he will be tried by the Meiji government and executed. If it is discoved that he is one of the last surviving members of the Sekihotai, his death will be slow and torturous." Aoshi suspected that Zetsumei Kurohyou was already aware of this; he was simply reminding her so that she would not be under any illusions of Sagara's chances should the arrest be carried out.

"They will not touch him."

Aoshi allowed his eyes to narrow. "You cannot guarantee that."

His words were not well recieved. Zetsumei Kurohyou stalked across the dojo towards him, her very being radiating danger. Aoshi was careful not to allow his body to tense; it would not be wise to have the woman think that he was readying himself to fight with her.

"What is the name of the man who has issued the charge against Sanosuke?"

Aoshi blinked. "Tani Jusanro."

"Where is he now?"

"He has a large house near a small town in Shinsu, roughly two hundred kilometers from here. His nephew lives in this town; he is said to have been visiting this nephew when he was attacked by Sagara."

Zetsumei Kurohyou proceeded to brush past Aoshi and walk out the door.

* * *

Two week after Zetsumei Kurohyou vanished from the Kamiya Dojo in Tokyo, Tani Jusanro was found dead in his home. His abdomen had been slit open; his guts wrapped tightly around his fat neck; his heart removed from his chest and stuffed down his throat. His nephew, a well-known yakuza by the name of Fudosawa, was still alive - the large man's eyes had been ripped from their sockets; his hands severed at the wrists; and his tongue removed from his mouth. The eyes, hands, and tongue were missing.

On the wall of Tani Jusanro's bedroom, written in his own blood, was a message.

The message read:

_Sanosuke Sagara is hereby placed under the protection of Zetsumei Kurohyou._

The orders to arrest Sanosuke Sagara on sight were quickly retracted.

* * *

One week after that, Aoshi Shinomori - having returned to Kyoto three days after Zetsumei Kurohyou's abrupt departure from Tokyo - exited his room at the Aoi-Ya to find a stained straw basket just outside his door.

Inside the basket were the hands, eyes, and tongue of Fudosawa.

* * *

Just over a day after Aoshi Shinomori recieved his gory present, Hajime Saito opened the door to his office at the police headquarters in Tokyo, stepping inside, closed the door again, and looked directly at the patch of shadows in the corner of the room closest to the open window that had not been open when he stepped out of that same room twenty minutes ago.

"Something you wanted, _youma_?" He had been expecting this visit for a few days now; it would be nice to finally get it overwith. He moved towards his desk, patting his pockets for his cigarrettes and a match.

"Has the warrant for Sanosuke's arrest been retracted yet?" his uninvited guest asked rather hoarsely. Saito took a long drag, his eyebrows climbing his forehead.

"Did you _run_ all the way back here?"

She did not answer him, and Saito gave a sigh as he made himself comfortable in the chair behind his desk.

"Your message was recieved," he answered bluntly, taking another lengthy drag and blowing smoke in the general direction of the open window. "The warrant was retracted. The _ahou's_ safe from retribution after that particular display of stupidity."

There was no response to his quip, and when Saito again glanced at the corner nearest the window it was to find the space empty.

* * *

Sano tossed back another cup of sake and grinned at Katsu, who sighed in mock annoyance before giving him a refill.

"Sometimes I think this arrest thing is just a cover-story so you can stay here and eat all my food and drink all my alcohol," Katsu grumbled halfheartedly. Sano slapped his oldest friend on the back.

"C'mon, quit your whining. You're a nationally famous artist and you write a newspaper. I'm not even making a dent in your wallet, Katsu! And there really _is_ a warrant out for my arrest, I swear! Would I lie to you?"

"Yes."

"Hey!"

Before either of them could say anything else, there was a knock on the door to Katsu's home. Both of them froze.

"You said you weren't having any company for a while!" Sano hissed, looking around frantically for somewhere to hide. Katsu lunged at him and grabbed him by the jacket, yanking him into the next room and ripping up two floormats in record time. A small space under the building was reveled, and Katsu shoved Sano into it.

"Stay still and shut up, I'll get rid of whoever it is and let you out when it's safe."

The floormats quickly went back into place, leaving Sano to lay flat on his back with about an inch of space above his face. Distantly, he could hear the muffled sound of Katsu's voice; the words were indistinguishable.

Shit, he really hoped it wasn't the cops. If Saito found him hiding under a couple of fucking floormats Sano would die of humiliation.

The floormat over his face was yanked away, letting light spill into Sano's eyes and effectively blinding him. He bolted upright, smacked his head against something hard as a rock, and nearly knocked himself out. He heard something hit the floor next to him, but was too busy cussing a blue streak at the agony in his forehead to see what it was.

"Son-of-a-fucking-bitch-bastard!"

"The warrant has been retracted."

Sano paused in his cursing to look up. Midori was laying in a heap on the floor right next to his little hidey-hole, her head in her hands and her teeth gnashing against each other. It looked like someone had just hit her really hard on the - oh. Whoops.

"Where the hell've you been?" Sano groaned, standing with only a little bit of a wobble and climbing out of the floor. He offered a hand to Midori, pulling her to her feet when she took it and slinging his arm over her shoulder for a sideways hug of greeting. "You've been gone for weeks! You okay?"

Midori nodded, leaning into his side slightly in a way that set off alarm bells in Sano's brain. Midori wasn't usually big with physical contact. It had been weird enough the day after she'd come home from that fucker Enishi's island to find her asleep with her head on Yahiko's lap; having her lean into him like this was throwing him off a little bit.

"The warrant for your arrest has been retracted," she repeated. Sano blinked.

"Seriously?"

Midori nodded again.

"How did that happen?"

Midori shrugged, finally pulling away and glancing over at Katsu where he stood in the doorway. She mumbled something, looking faintly embarrassed. Sano furrowed his brows and leaned toward her, shaking his head.

"What'd you say?"

Again, Midori glanced at Katsu. Sano glanced at him too, lost for a moment before he figured out what the problem was.

"Oh, yeah. _Aibou_, this is my friend Katsu. He's the painter Tsunan Tsukioka, and the guy that I got my bombs from. He was in the Sekihotai with me. I trust him."

This was apparently enough assurance for Midori because she promptly turned back to Sano and said, "I killed Tani Jusanro and maimed his nephew. The authorities retracted the warrant out of fear. They will not bother you again."

_**"WHAT?"**_

Midori winced, but Sano was too stunned to notice and too busy shouting at his wonderful dumbass of an _aibou_ to ask her if she was alright.

"**_ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND? YOU KILLED THAT ISHIN SHISHI BASTARD? HOW THE FUCK DID YOU FIND OUT WHO PUT THE WARRANT OUT ON ME?"_**

"I spoke with Shinomori and -"

_**"THAT FUCKING IDIOT! IF THEY FIND OUT YOU KILLED HIM THEY'LL COME AFTER YOU! THEY'LL KNOW YOU'RE STILL ALIVE AND YOU SAID YOU DIDN'T WANT THEM TO FUCKING KNOW YOU'RE STILL ALIVE! DAMN IT ALL! WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?"**_

In the time it took Sano to blink he was flat on his back with Midori sitting on his chest and Midori's hand clamped around his mouth. Katsu moved as if to help, but one glance from Midori had the baby slinking back. Damn cowardly bastard.

"Sano, I signed my title in Jusanro's blood on the wall above where I left his corpse. They already know it was me. I know what I'm doing, _baka_. No one in the government is stupid enough to fuck with me, not with my reputation and not after what I did to those two. Now they know that you are under my protection, and none of them have the balls to do something about it. If they try, I will remind them why they should be afraid of me."

Sano's eyes nearly popped out of his head at that last statement. What the hell was she saying? That if some government pig came after Sano because he'd beaten the shit out of that one guy, Midori would kill them?

"Yes, I am saying that I will kill anyone who comes after you."

How had she known what he was thinking?

Holy shit, could she do that mind-reading thing like the foxlady always did?

"Your face is very easy to read," she said, removing her hand and getting off of him. Sano scowled at her even as he made a mental note to make her eat more - she was way too light to be healthy.

"You are my friend, Sano, like a brother to me. I will protect you with my life. I will not let a corrupt government official take away your freedom. If I have to kill them so that you might stay free...well. What is one more person's blood on my hands?"

Sano just scowled at her, because really, how are you supposed to bitch at a woman who just said she'd kill for you?

Damnit, Midori only said semi-mushy stuff like that to shut him up, he was sure of it.

The cheater.

* * *

Enishi shadows Midori as she makes her way to the river after her chat with Sagara. He had not been pleased when she left him behind and vanished for three weeks; he will not let her leave him like that again. The others at the dojo despise him. Kaoru Kamiya may have grudgingly given her permission for him to stay at her dojo, but it is very clear that it is not because she or her friends have suddenly grown fond of his company. Enishi would rather not be left alone with those people again.

He had not seen the Battousai at all during Midori's absence. In the days before her trip, the Battousai had also followed Midori everywhere as unobtrusively as possible. Midori had ignored him for the most part, occasionally reaching out to touch his hand or the sleeve of his ridiculously colored _gi_. She had rarely said a word - to anyone - and had eaten little and slept less.

And then she had had some conversation with the Okashira in the dojo. After that she had disappeared for three weeks.

If she does that again there is a strong possibility that Enishi will go insane.

Or else he'll kill someone.

One or the other.

"Is there something you wanted, Enishi?"

Midori's voice snaps Enishi out of his thoughts. He glances around to see that they are standing on the grassy banks of the river Midori frequently comes to. Glancing at her, he sees that she is watching him with a gaze devoid of interest; it seems as though she is merely waiting for him to say whatever he wants to say and then leave her alone. Enishi scowls slightly. She left him alone with her little friends and his ex-brother-in-law for three damn weeks; she can put up with his presence until he feels like leaving, damnit. Rebelliously, he clamps his mouth shut and sits.

Midori sighs somewhat irritably before sitting as well. She then removes her _katana_ from her back and sets it aside; lays down; folds her hands behind her head as a make-shift pillow; and closes her eyes.

They sit there in silence for nearly two hours before Enishi's small reserve of patience expends itself.

"Where the hell have you been?" he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the woman sprawled out next to him. She quirks a brow at him - keeping her eyes closed - but says nothing as he continues to speak.

"You were gone for three weeks. You left me behind with Battousai and those other idoits. Where were you?" he demands furiously.

"I killed someone to help one of my friends. If you did not like staying at the dojo you should have left. Do you not have anything better to do than sitting around waiting for me or following me everywhere?"

"Like what?" he grumbles, trying hard to wrestle his surprise under control. She speaks so casually of having killed someone. As if it is the most natural thing in the world.

Sometimes Enishi wonders if this woman really _is_ a woman, or if she is just a very pretty man. How can any woman be so...cavalier about commiting murder?

"Are you not a Chinese mafia boss? When are you going back to China?" Midori opens one eye, which she uses to study him like he's some kind of unusual insect she is considering squashing. Enishi stubbornly avoids her gaze by scowling at the river; if the heat of his glare could burn things, the water in front of him would be evaporating. Why is this woman always trying to get rid of him? Was his company so abhorant to her? Would it really be so much trouble for her to try to get to know him, and to let him get to know the woman under that godsdamned icy mask she wears all the time?

"I'm not in any hurry," he grumbles. Out of his perifrial vision, he watches as her eye closes again.

"If you are waiting for me then you are wasting your time, Enishi."

He hunches his shoulders, aware that his nerves are starting to bulge across his face.

"Why?" he growls, fighting to maintain control of himself. "What makes this place so wonderful that you would choose it over me? I could take you anywhere in the world. I can give you anything you want. You would be safe forever with me. I could make you happy, if you would let me."

"Pretty words from someone whose actions have flipped my life and my happiness upside down."

Enishi's head snaps around towards her. "What?"

"You terrorized the man I have loved for most of my life. You terrorized my friends. You shattered the peace I have been searching for these last fifteen years. You took me away from the home I had always wanted, from the one man that I have ever loved, and from the life I had built with him in this place. Because of you all of that is now in tatters. The man I loved is now only a shadow of his former self, the peaceful home is gone because the friends I cherish are terrified of losing me again, and the life I have enjoyed for the last year - the only true happiness I have known in fifteen years - is ended as surely as if you had killed me the night you attacked the dojo. You have ruined everything. You have taken everything from me." All of this is said in an almost bored tone, as though she is merely commenting on the weather.

Enishi's insides feel cold and the anger that rode him moments ago is gone.

Midori opens her eyes and turns her head to face him. "Tell me, Enishi, what was the goal of your Jinchu?"

Enishi finds that he must swallow hard several times before he can answer. "To cause the Battousia pain. To ruin his life and his happiness. To take away the person he loved the most. To make him feel alone."

Midori stands, retrieves her _katana_, brushes grass from her clothing, and walks past him. The slight breeze carries her words to him as she walks away.

"I think perhaps you delivered your Jinchu to the wrong person, Enishi."

Enishi made no move to follow her and sat on the riverbanks alone for a long time after that.

* * *

Midori sat alone in the quiet of the training dojo and tried very hard not to think about anything. She didn't want to think about killing that pig or maiming his fat nephew or her recent conversation with Enishi. She didn't want to think about Kenshin's poor health or how she had missed Megumi's departure for Aizu. She really just wanted to sit here until she fell asleep - she hadn't slept in days and now that she was safely back in the dojo a good night's rest sounded amazing. Sano was safe again, Megumi would be fine on her own, Kaoru and Yahiko were both asleep somewhere down the porch in their own bedrooms...aside from the suddenly-allusive Kenshin, everyone she cared about was accounted for. She had nothing to worry about, aside from Kenshin. There was nothing preventing her from dropping off into a restful sleep - expect for Kenshin and the fact that she didn't know where he was.

Midori heaved a sigh as she stood from her spot on the floor of the training dojo and made for the door, resigned to the fact that she would get no rest until she had found Kenshin and assured herself of his wellbeing. It was amazing to her that even after all she had been through because of him - even after all the pain her association with him had caused her - she still worried about him constantly. He was always on her mind, whether on the edges or at the forefront, and sometimes she could almost hate him for that.

Just as she could almost hate him for nearly killing her all those years ago, just like she could almost hate him for abandoning her when she was stuck on Enishi's island.

Just as she could _almost_ hate him...

"Kabu?"

Midori whirled, surprised to find herself outside in the courtyard. Kenshin was in the process of rounding the corner of the living quarters, his usual magenta gi covering a large portion of the bandages still wrapped around the wound he had recieved from Enishi. Midori let her eyes sweep his figure as he approached her, taking in the thinness, the bags beneath his eyes, the ever-so-slight drag in his step. He looked somewhat healthier than he had before her departure three weeks ago, but he was still not back to where he had been before his fight with Enishi.

Hesitant fingers curled around her own. "I did not know you were back."

"Just got back today," she muttered in reply, more interested in the feeling of his calloused thumb rubbing circles in her palm than in whatever he might say. She traced the pointer finger of her free hand down his scarred cheek without thinking about it; his face, even scarred as it was, felt much softer than his hand.

Kenshin took her caress as an invitation to use his free hand and their joined hands to gently tug Midori into an embrace.

Midori relaxed in his arms, putting her head against his unwounded shoulder so that her breath washed against his collarbone. This felt...right. As though here in his arms was the place she was meant to be. She felt safe, warm, protected. She felt loved.

It was a wonderful feeling, one she had missed immensely for far too long.

Slowly, her mind peacefully quiet, Midori disintagled her hand from Kenshin's fingers and loosely wrapped her arms low around Kenshin's waist.

"I am sorry."

Midori closed her eyes and listened.

"I want you to know. I...after you left, Yahiko came into the room Megumi-san had set up for my use and talked to me. He told me how Aoshi had proven that the...the body we found in the dojo was just a replica of you. He told me that when Kujiranami broke out of jail that he fought the man, but was being beaten badly. He said that Tsubame-chan came to me in the Rakuninmura and informed me that you were alive, and then begged me to get up and help Yahiko.

"I do not remember that happening. After I saw...that doll, you, in the dojo, after I touched your cold face and smelt your blood and realized that _you were dead_...it...broke me. I...I haven't been _here_ since then. I've been...gone...locked away inside my head. You...you were the only thing that I could see...just you, standing in front of me, always turned away...and I knew that you were dead because of me, and I knew you must hate me wherever you were, and I just wanted to die so I could be with you."

Midori could feel Kenshin's tears falling into her hair; he was hugging her so tightly it was painful.

"And...and all that time...I left you on that island, I left you when you needed me, I wasn't there, I didn't come get you!"

Kenshin was sobbing in earnest now, sobbing and shaking and holding onto her as though terrified to let her go. After a moment's bewildered contemplation of the awkward situation she was currently stuck in, Midori decided it would be prudent to move this little conversation inside before someone saw them and she and Kenshin both died of embarrassment. Having decided thus, Midori gently started to move the still-weeping Kenshin in the direction of the training dojo as fast as she could, hoping against hope that no one would suddenly appear and see the two of them when Kenshin was so vulnerable.

"...Midori?"

Enishi.

Damn it all to _Hell_.

_Why_ must Fate hate her so?

Resolutely ignoring Enishi, Midori managed to get Kenshin and herself inside the training dojo and the door shut behind them before she collapsed with Kenshin in her arms. She sighed tiredly as she shifted them both so that she was leaning comfortably against the wall and Kenshin was sprawled out across her outstretched legs, his arms still wrapped securely around her middle and his head resting in her lap. She buried one hand in his hair, leaned her head back to rest against the wall, and closed her eyes.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

A/N: Please review.


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea

* * *

_Why do I love you? Can you tell me? Can you tell me why?_

_I don't know, kabu. I can't answer that question. Only you can._

_Do you love me?_

_Yes._

_You've said that before. It is true this time?_

_It's always been true. It will always be true._

_Don't make a promise you aren't going to keep._

_I promise to love you forever, kabu. I promise never to leave your side. I promise to lay down my life for yours. I promise to make you happy._

_You promise impossible things._

_I will make them possible._

_Why?_

_Because I love you._

_I think your love is bad for you. Just like mine's obviously bad for me. I think we'll end up being the death of each other someday._

_I would never hurt you._

_Not physically._

_What does that mean?_

_It doesn't matter. It doesn't change anything. I can't **make** myself hate you. I can't **make** myself walk away from you anymore than you can **survive** without me. We're stuck together, ninjin. I think we'll be stuck together until one of us dies._

_...Does that upset you? Being with me until death?_

_...No. But I hope for my sake that I die first. I'm tired of living away from you._

* * *

When Enishi wakes up from a rare dead sleep to the sensation of someone lightly shaking his shoulder, he reacts like anyone who has spent the last decade in Shanghai would react. That is how he finds himself in his current predicament: fallen from the tree near the riverbank in which he had slept, splayed out on top of Midori with his hands caging her wrists and his legs automatically positioned so that she cannot maim an important part of his anatomy. Midori looks as stunned as he feels; the fall seems to have knocked the wind out of her, and those strange emerald eyes are much wider than usual.

She's so thin Enishi can feel the bones of her ribs poking against his own.

He is quick to get off of her for fear of crushing her. He pulls her up with him before letting go and turning away, rubbing his hands harshly over his face and through his hair. He feels like such a bastard. He didn't know it was Midori who was touching him; he just reacted to the percieved threat and attacked. What if he had really hurt her? He isn't armed, his _nihontou_ is under the porch of Kamiya's little dojo, but he still could probably kill Midori with nothing but his bare hands.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his back to her; he can't bring himself to face her yet.

Midori speaks as though nothing has happened.

"Himura and I will be leaving Tokyo soon."

He tenses, knowing what's coming next. She is going to send him away forever. His brother-in-law will never agree to letting Enishi come with them wherever they are going, and even he would, Midori would never allow it. She hates Enishi, she has told him this herself. And if he is being honest with himself, they both have every right to hate Enishi just as much as Enishi has hated the Battousai all of these years. He seperated them, nearly killed the Battousai, caused them both untold amounts of emotional stress, destroyed most of the Kamiya girl's home. All for revenge over an act that was never the Battousai's fault in the first place.

All for nothing.

"What are your plans now?"

Enishi shrugs. He has no plans anymore. He has no purpose anymore, now that he knows the Battousai truly isn't to blame for his _onee_-_sama's_ death. He doesn't know what he's going to do with what's left of his life.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when a hand is placed against his back.

"Those...muscles are bulging again. Does that mean that you are angry?"

Muscles? What...

Oh.

Enishi forces himself to relax, watching as the nerves standing out against the skin of his hands shrink back to their normal size. Midori's hand is still on his back, small and warm through the fabric of his tunic.

"They're not muscles," he whispers to her. "They're nerves. I'm faster when they bulge like that. It's nothing."

He doesn't want to tell her he developed what he has come to call the 'nerves of insanity' on his quest for revenge. He doesn't want to tell her that he had originally planned to use this...mutation to kill the Battousai. Midori has enough reasons to hate him; Enishi doesn't want to give her more.

"Are you going back to Shanghai?" she asks him.

Enishi doesn't answer. He can't; he hasn't decided yet whether he's going back to Shanghai or not. There's nothing for him here in Japan anymore, but aside from his position in the mafia his life in Shanghai is equally meaningless.

What he really wants to do is stay here, with Midori. But that isn't an option. She will never be his. She will always belong to the Battousai. The most he could dream of is the chance to one day be counted as her friend, but Enishi doubts that will ever happen either.

There is, however, one thing he thinks he might be able to gain.

"Can you take me to where the Battousai is?" he ask Midori, voice low and gentle; he does not want her to think he is threatening the Battousai. He has abandoned his revenge. He will never lift a finger against the Battousai again.

Instead of answering, Midori walks past him, beckoning with one hand for him to follow her. She leads him back to the Kamiya Dojo, where the Kamiya girl and the brat can be seen sparring in the practice dojo and Sagara stands leaning on a support beam on the porch. His stance goes from relaxed to tense the instant he sees Enishi, but he does nothing as Midori approaches him.

"Sano," Midori greets him, a small smile lifting the corners of her lips. "Have you finished eating your friend the artist out of house and home?"

Sagara shrugs, clearly uneasy around Enishi and trying not to show it. "Cheapscape kicked me out. Thought I'd come by and see how you're doin', but Jou-chan and Yahiko said you'd gone somewhere."

"I'm fine, Sano, stop worrying about me. Is Kenshin around?"

Sagara jerks his thumb in the direction of the sliding door behind and to the right of where he stands, his brown eyes moving from Midori to Enishi for the shortest of moments before he speaks again. "Want me in there with you?"

Midori shakes her head, striding towards the door and sliding it partway open. She says something Enishi can't hear; after a moment she turns and beckons once again to Enishi. "Come on."

Sagara stares daggers at Enishi until he is inside the room and Midori slides the door shut behind her.

Kenshin Himura, the Battousai, Enishi's brother-in-law is sitting against the far wall, one knee drawn up so that his arm may drape across it. His _sakabatou_ is resting against his shoulder. His clothing is the same as ever, patched and faded _hakama_ with a hideously magenta _gi_. There are still bandages wrapped around his torso over the wound Enishi gave him; Enishi wonders how long it will take for that wound to heal. Battousai looks tired, large bags under both eyes dominating his thin face.

Those eyes, dark blue in color at the moment, are watching Enishi's every twitch.

Enishi hesitates momentarily, standing close to the door and Midori. He knows what he wants to do, knows what he hopes to gain, but he is unsure as to how to go about doing it. He has never done this before. He has the sudden childish urge to reach back and grab Midori's hand, but he restrains himself. He does not think either of the people with him in this room would appreciate such a gesture.

Slowly, hesitantly, Enishi walks across the room until he is standing little more than an arm's length away from the Battousai. He sees the man tense as he approaches, feels Midori's eyes boring into his back. He can feel sweat building upon his forehead as the tension in the room becomes unbearably thick.

And he can sense the surprise from both the Battousai and Midori when Enishi slowly folds himself to his knees and bows, low and humble, before Kenshin Himura.

No one says anything for a long, long moment.

"I...I ask for your forgiveness," Enishi begins haltingly. "I have...brought shame upon my family with my actions...I have brought shame upon myself...I have done grievious offense to you and yours. If I might borrow a dagger, I would ask that you do me the honor of being my second. If the vow you have taken prohibits such action, I would ask the same of Midori. But before that, I...I ask...I _beg_ for your forgiveness, brother."

_Brother_. The word is out of Enishi's mouth before he even knows he is going to say it.

Enishi had been raised as a child under the teachings of _bushido_. As such, having now disgraced and dishonored himself, his name, and the memory of his _onee_-_sama_, _seppuka_ seems to him like the perfect choice. It will solve his problems about deciding what to do in the future, it will remove his unwanted presence from Midori's life, and it will maybe even bring him some peace to carry with him on his way to whatever circle of hell he is headed for. All he needs is a dagger and a second.

All he wants is his brother-in-law's forgiveness before he dies.

A hand gently brushes against the hair on the back of his head, and Enishi looks up. The Battousai is kneeling in front of him, his hand moving to Enishi's shoulder.

There are tears in his eyes.

"Enishi-san," he whispers, his voice rough and scratchy as though he hasn't used it in a long time. "Enishi-san, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me for Tomoe's death...if _you_ can forgive _me_...then my forgiveness is yours."

And then the Battousai bows over his thighs and touches his head to the floor.

Enishi feels like he has been punched in the gut. Why? Why does the Battousai apologize for _onee_-_sama's_ death when it wasn't his fault? Enishi does not understand this man. He should not be asking for Enishi's forgiveness; there is nothing to forgive.

Tentatively, Enishi reaches out to his brother-in-law and puts his hand on his right shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. He waits until the Battousai has raised his head, until he can see the tears on the Battousai's face, before he offers the smallest of smiles.

"There is nothing for me to forgive."

Immediately a hand clamps down on the back of Enishi's neck, startling him. The voice that speaks so close to his ear is low and dangerous and very, very pissed off.

"And don't you even _consider_ committing _seppuka_ again," Midori snarls at him before roughly releasing his neck. Enishi turns on his knees so that he can look up at her and is shocked to see that she also has tears on her face.

"_Seppuka_ is too easy for you," she says, glaring at him with those unique emerald eyes. "Don't think to escape your life so easily. I would hunt you down in Hell when I die and torture you for the rest of eternity. Are you going to bother asking me for forgiveness for what you have done to me? For the pain you have caused me?"

Enishi shakes his head. "I...I don't think I deserve it."

"You're right, Yukishiro." The renewed use of his surname is not lost on him; nor is the almost evil grin on her tearstreaked face. "You don't deserve it. I am not Kenshin Himura, who forgives anyone who asks it of him. If you want my forgiveness, you will have to work for it."

"What do you want me to do?" he asks, his voice quaking in a way he has not heard himself speak in a very long time. "Tell me what to do and I will do it. Please."

She crouches, wiping her hand roughly over her face as the Battousai moves around Enishi to her side. The Battousai's eyes have faded to lavender, tender as he runs a finger across the back of Midori's hand. Midori moves her hand and closes it around that finger, flicking a single glance in the Battousai's direction that has Enishi fighting a blush like a little boy.

"I am Kenshin's," Midori tells him bluntly, her gaze boring into him. "I have always been Kenshin's, since before your sister even knew his name or what he looked like. I will never be anyone else's. Makoto Shishio offered me a nation to leave Kenshin, and instead I helped ensure Shishio's death. There is nothing you can give to me, say to me, or do for me that will make me love you the way that I still - _miraculously_ - love Kenshin Himura. But I have somehow stupidly allowed myself to form an attachment to you; therefore you are now mine to protect, just as any of my other friends are mine to protect."

Enishi moves to speak at this, offended that she thinks he needs her protection, when Midori sharply holds up a hand to silence him.

"When I disappeared for three weeks last month, I killed a well-known former Ishin Shishi member who had issued a warrant for Sanosuke's arrest. I wrapped his guts around his neck and stuffed his heart down his throat. I cut off the hands and tongue of his nephew, a corrupt Yakuza bastard hiding behind his uncle's position, and removed his nephew's eyes from their sockets. I signed my title in the Ishin Shishi member's blood on the wall above where I left his corpse.

"The Meiji government has been laboring for the past decade under the illusion that Zetsumei Kurohyou was dead. I have now stripped them of that illusion rather...spectacularly."

Enishi remains silent, not sure what point Midori is trying to make. What does any of what she just told him actually have to _do_ with him?

"Enishi-san," says the Battousai, soft eyes still on Midori, "what do you remember hearing about Zetsumei Kurohyou during the Bakumatsu?"

Enishi thinks for a minute, puzzled by the question. "Zetsumei Kurohyou was a woman, a _hitokiri_ alongside the Battousai and later Makoto Shishio. She killed forty of her own allies after two weeks of being raped and tortured by them. She hated the Shinsengumi. She was ruthless and merciless. She was the Battousai's only true friend, and he was hers. She carried out more assassinations for the Ishin Shishi than anyone else and was _hitokiri_ for the longest period of time. She was thought to have been killed near the end of the war by the Battousai on orders from high ranking members of the Ishin Shishi."

"Exactly," Midori cuts in forcefully, pulling Enishi's full attention back to her. "'_Thought to have been killed near the end of the war by the Battousai on orders from high ranking members of the Ishin Shishi'._ Tell me, Yukishiro, who exactly do you think is running the Meiji government alongside the emperor? The same spineless bastards who ordered my only friend to kill me. And now they have just been shown in a wonderfully gory way that I am very much alive and just as _ruthless_ and _merciless_ as ever. Do you really think that there is anyone currently positioned high enough in the government ranks that has the balls to come after me or those under my protection? I am the skeleton beneath their futons that has now emerged into the light, Yukishiro. They will not foolishly send men to kill someone they will now be certain is a demon newly returned from Hell."

"You don't have to do this for me," Enishi protests, alarmed at the notion of the danger Midori might be placing herself in for his sake. "I will leave. I will return to Shanghai and - "

"If you return to Shanghai and your life as a Mafia boss, any chance you might have of procuring my forgiveness will vanish."

"But you can't _do_ this!" Enishi says, becoming agitated upon hearing that she would revoke her forgiveness if he removed the problem that is his presence in her life. "It's too dangerous. What if you're wrong, and someone comes after you or your friends because of what you're doing? They could kill you! Even if they discover that you are with the Battousai, it's well-known that he has taken a vow against killing. They will know that you are the only real threat."

The Battousai's voice when he speaks is ice-cold, his eyes suddenly heavily flecked with amber. "I will never allow anyone to take Midori away from me again. Ever."

Enishi stares at him. "Then you would break your oath? You would take another life to keep her with you?"

"If it is a choice between her life and her death, then yes: I would break my oath. I would take another life."

"I am not helpless," Midori reminds them both, a bite of annoyance clear in her voice. "There are only probably three people in the country that I can think of that could kill me. One is Saito; if he were going to kill me he would have done so already, and he is likely to tell his superiors where to stuff their orders if they attempted to order him to kill me. The others are the two of you. Yukishiro is a Chinese mafia boss and wanted felon, no one's going to ask him; Kenshin is the Battousai, my friend and lover who failed to kill me the first time around and would not be inclined to follow the same orders a second time. The threat and danger you are worried about, Yukishiro, do not exsist."

Enishi can only stare incredulously at the two people in front of him. Why? Why would they go to such trouble for him of all people? He has hurt them both greiviously; they should hate him. And yet they offer him forgiveness and protection?

"Why?" he whispers, eyes switching from Midori's face to the Battousai's and back again. "Why would you do this for me? You owe me nothing."

"For Tomoe," the Battousai replies softly, even as Midori squeezes his captive finger. "This is the last thing I can do for her, and for you."

Enishi allows his eyes to drift to Midori, who meets his gaze with her own. "And you?"

"For myself," she answers bluntly. "You are much like me, Yukishiro. You lost the sister you loved; I lost my Myoushu. You clawed your way to the top of the Chinese mafia in the hopes of revenge; I joined the Ishin Shishi and became a murderer. You have killed people; my kill count is higher than Kenshin's was at the end of the war, I killed numerous yakuza thugs over the last decade for nothing more than quick money. You had the opportunity to take your revenge; so did I. You have abandoned your revenge; so have I. You have no family left, nowhere to go, no one to turn to; if I had not found Kenshin again, had not met Sano or Kaoru or Yahiko or Megumi-san, I would have no one. My parents sold me into slavery, cast me out, for no reason other than the color of my eyes. They abandoned me to a life of cruelty because of something beyond my control. I will not do the same to you because of your stupid choices. I will not follow in my parents' footsteps."

"You called me your brother, Enishi-san?" asks the Battousai - Kenshin Himura - in his soft voice. Enishi nods. "Then be a brother to me. Be a brother to us both. Family protects one another, do they not?"

"I am not your sister Tomoe, Yukishiro," Midori interrupts, her own voice softening slightly along with her eyes. "You are not my little brother whom I met once and will likely never see again. But if you are willing to treat me as your family, to treat Kenshin as your family, then I will protect you for as long as there is breath in my body. I swear this to you on my life."

Family. They are giving him a chance to be part of a family.

Enishi closes his eyes, feasts on the sight of his _onee_-_sama's_ happy, content face as she nods to him.

_"Say yes, otouto, Enishi-chan,"_ her voice whispers, caressing him with her love. _"Say yes, and be happy again."_

And Enishi smiles, and nods, and says,

"Yes."

* * *

"You're _leaving_!"

"But Kenshin! Midori-san!"

"What'd'ya mean you're _leaving_?"

Midori gave her friends a rather apathetic looks as Kenshin chuckled nervously beside her. They had known their friends were going to react like this, and they hadn't even gotten through with all the news yet.

Midori had the honors for this last tidbit; Kenshin was too chicken.

"Yukishiro is coming with us."

"_**WHAT?"**_

Midori and Kenshin both flinched at the same time, their ears ringing from the volume of the word that had just been screamed at them from three different people all at close range. Sano, Yahiko, and Kaoru looked as though they had just been told that Midori's codename during the Bakumatsu was really 'Fluffy Black Kitten' or that Kenshin was actually a woman. The thunderstuck looks on all of their faces made Midori smile.

"Yukishiro is coming with us," she repeated calmly. "I plan on making a few threats here and there so that the Meiji government will leave him alone. He has nowhere else to go in Japan and I do not think it would be healthy for him to return to his life in Shanghai. Kenshin agrees, so we have invited Yukishiro to come with us. We plan on leaving at the end of the month."

"We were hoping that the three of you would accompany us on the first leg of our journey," Kenshin told them. "We're going to Kyoto from here. We were going to take the train. We want to send word to Megumi-san and see if she can meet us there, as well."

The trio continued to gape at Midori and Kenshin with open mouths.

"B-b-but," Yahiko stuttered, pointing a somewhat shaky finger at Midori. "B-but you can't - you can't be serious!"

Midori raised an eyebrow at the boy. "Why not?"

"You can't seriously take that bastard with you!"

Again, Midori asked him, "Why not?"

"Because he's a killer!" This came from Kaoru, who seemed to have recovered somewhat from her shock and moved towards anger instead. "He murdered people, he told us about that family in Shanghai that took him in, remember? He works for the Chinese mafia!"

"Worked for," Midori corrected.

"_Kabu_ and I have both killed people," Kenshin reminded them all in a quiet voice.

"But you regret it!" said Kaoru, her anger growing as they argued with her. "You don't kill anymore! You're not like him!"

"I don't regret killing any of the people I've killed," Midori retorted softly. "I've never renounced killing. I've killed people more recently than Yukishiro has, or did you forget about those five men I cut to pieces right in front of you? Or the bastard who I strangled with his own intestines?"

There was a strained pause before Sano asked, his voice very quiet, "Why are you two defending him like this?"

Midori and Kenshin shared a long, meaningful look.

"I understand him," Midori finally replied, glancing back at Sano's impassive face. "His life has been much like mine once was. I can understand the choices he made, as they are much like choices I have already lived through. His revenge, his jinchu, is over now. His life's purpose has been taken from him. We have given him a new one. He wants to earn our forgiveness, and we have agreed to allow him to do so."

"But what if he tries to kill you?" Yahiko blurted out. "What if he goes psycho again and goes on a killing spree 'cause he thinks Tomoe-san would've wanted him to?"

"I understand him," Midori repeated. "He will not do as you have said. That part of his life has ended."

"Well, _we_ don't understand," Kaoru objected mullishly, crossing her arms over her chest. "And we don't like it! We care about you, Midori, Kenshin! And you're going off with that - that - _monster_ just because Midori thinks she _understands_ him? How can _you_ if the rest of us can't?"

"Do you have a vendetta against the one man who killed the most important person in the world to you?" Midori responded gently, Kenshin quietly supportive at her side. "Did you swear revenge at a young age against the one man who had turned your life upon it's head and left you with nothing? Did you spend years of your life with a festering hatred for this man, waiting for the chance to have your revenge, only to have that revenge become hollow once it was finally within your reach? Did you have years of your life rendered as meaningless when that happened? Did you abandon your revenge, your life's purpose?"

Kaoru and Yahiko looked at each other for a half-second before shaking their heads. Sano merely huffed in denial, sticking his hands into his pockets.

"I have," Midori reminded them softly. "So has he."

They were all silent for a while after that. The sun was set, the stars out; the moon was barely a sliver, hardly enough to shed light on the little group in the dojo's courtyard. Midori looked at the faces of her friends, people she had known for over a year now, and was almost surprised at how much she would miss them. But she was consoled by the knowlegde that she could always come and see them again. They were in her life now, her friends, her makeshift family; nothing would keep her away from them forever save death.

"Why're you going to Kyoto first?" Sano eventually asked. Kaoru and Yahiko turned curious faces to Kenshin and Midori. Midori smiled.

"Now that the Meiji government is aware of my continued existance, there is nothing stopping us from marrige at the nearest temple," she explained, nudging Kenshin lightly in the ribs. "Except _ninjin's_ stubborn insistance that we wed in Kyoto."

"Because I think Misao-san will be very angry at me if she can't attend."

"Right. The Okashira's not going to be happy to see me, just to let you know. I did send him a basket of body parts to make a point."

There was a long moment of utter silence. Then -

"_**YOU'RE GETTING MARRIED?"**_

Midori cringed at Kaoru's volume, as well as the slightly terrifying look of joy on the younger woman's face. "Um...yes?"

Kaoru abruptly screamed, leapt forward, and crushed Midori in a bone-cracking hug. Just as abruptly she let go, causing a disoriented Midori to fall to the ground in a dazed heap. "Wait. What are you going to wear? You don't own any kimono, and you can't wear a _gi_ and _hakama_ to get married! Oh _kami_, I need to talk to Tae-san! She knows all the latest fashion. We can write to Megumi-san and get her opinion, and Misao-chan can help too, once we get to Kyoto! Oh, I'm so excited!"

And without further ado Kaoru went tearing out the gates, yelling something over her shoulder about Tae and wedding kimono. Midori paled.

"She's going to plan what I will wear to get married in?" she croaked, rising to her feet as horrifying images of all the possibilities of Kaoru's involvement with her wardrobe sprang to mind.

"Uh, yeah, I think that's the plan," Sano drawled, a large grin spreading across his face. "Her, _and_ Tae, _and_ the fox, _and_ the weasel."

"**_Shit_**." And Midori went flying after her, the echoes of her men's laughter following her down the road.

* * *

A/N: Just the epilouge now, baby! Please review.


	24. Epilogue

Epilouge

Disclaimer: I do not own Rurouni Kenshin, but Midori was my idea.

* * *

"Ka-chan! Tou-chan, where Ka-chan?" demanded the high, sweet voice of a four-year-old girl.

'Ka-chan' smiled mischeviously as her son and daughter ran underneath her hiding spot, her daughter dragging their father along behind her as they searched. The daily game of hide-and-seek was supposed to be just between herself and the children, but her husband had quite a nack for being drawn into the game by the diminuitive cheaters.

She supposed it was only to be expected, since they could not have their breakfast until she was found and little tummies were always hungry.

"Where should we look for her, Kiyoko-chan?" Teasing indigo eyes darted up to her hiding place before the trio turned into the bedroom she shared with her husband. Disappointed groans sounded from within at finding it empty, and she had to nearly bite through her knuckles to keep from laughing.

"Ka-chan in the bath house?" her son asked, his little voice comically low as he tried to voice his suspicion to his father.

"Let's look, shall we, Kenji-chan?" Her husband adored their children beyond sanity, as did she, and would play this game as long as she remained hidden.

Midori watched, fist in her mouth, as Kenshin led the four-year-old twins back under her hiding spot; he was careful to shoot her a look when neither child would see before they passed beyond her line of vision. Midori waited for a few moments longer before dropping down from her hiding spot in the rafters. It had been awhile since she had last hidden there; apparently her children had forgotten that Ka-chan liked to climb up high. Kenshin would lead them to her shortly. Midori was going to wake Enishi.

She moved through her home, one ear on the children as they called for her from the direction of the bath house even as she moved to the door of Enishi's room. She knocked upon the frame before sliding the shoji partially open and peeking inside. A lump on the futon in the corner caught her eye.

"Enishi?"

The lump grunted at her.

"Time to get up. The children will find me soon, so if you plan to eat you should head to the kitchen now and get started before they get there."

A shock of snow-white hair appeared from under the blankets. Enishi gave her a rather blearly look as he extracted himself, pulling on a tunic to go with his still-preferred Chinese trousers as he stood up and moved toward her.

"Barely even dawn and those monsters are already driving me crazy," he muttered as he moved around her, yawning widely.

"Watch it, Yukishiro; those are my children you're talking about."

"Like I said, those angels are brightening my day by the minute."

Midori laughed as Enishi turned the corner on his way to breakfast, flashing a grin over his shoulder at her as he went. He had doubtlessly been up drinking late again with the men in the nearby town; he had gotten into trouble more than once the last few years with that bunch of idiots. He claimed they added spice to his life; Midori thought he just liked having the excuse to get into the occassional brawl.

Pattering footsteps assaulted her ears, and Midori turned just as two little blurs collided with her legs.

"Ka-chan! Ka-chan!"

"Tou-chan, found Ka-chan!"

Midori smiled as she bent down and scooped up her children, who giggled and clutched at her shoulders with their suspiciously sticky hands.

"And just why do you two have sticky hands?" she demanded with a mock-scowl on her face. Identical indigo gazes were immediately diverted from her face to that of her sheepish husband, who held up one empty hand and one carrying papers in surrender.

"One rice ball apiece, _kabu_," he assured her, sharing a wide grin with both of his children. Midori sighed heavily as though much put upon, drawing more giggles from the two little menaces in her arms as she turned around and set them back on their feet.

"Go on, little ones. Enishi is already waiting for you in the kitchen."

"Nishi-chan?" the two parroted in unison, much to Midori's amusement.

"Yes."

Squeals were issued as the twin terrors raced off in search of the kitchen and their much-love 'Nishi-chan'.

Enishi. Brother-in-law to Kenshin; 'retired' Chinese mafia boss; kidnapper; would-be love interest; favorite 'uncle' to her children, who had him wrapped around their little fingers. The day Enishi said no to her children was the day a man walked on the surface of the moon.

Her children. Her miracles. Born over a year after their departure from Tokyo; born in the winter under a foot of snow. Born between heart seizures, born at the cost of her ability to have future children. Born under Megumi's watchful eye, as Kenshin let Midori attempt to break his fingers and Sano lay passed out from shock at the base of her futon. Born as Enishi paced the hall outside Midori's room, worrying over his new little family.

Kiyoko, born first with her mother's black hair and her father's everchanging eyes. Kenji, with his father's hair and eyes and his mother's cheekbones. Kiyoko who loved to ride piggyback with either of her parents as they ran her laughing form through the woods behind their house. Kenji who was already begging to learn to play with _bokken_ like his parents played with steel. Kiyoko and Kenji, who liked to curl up in Enishi's lap in the middle of the day to sleep for hours.

Her children.

Her husband wrapped one arm around her waist from behind, holding out his other hand so that she could see what he was carrying.

"Letters from Tokyo, Aizu, and Kyoto," he informed her, nuzzling the side of her neck as she took the letters from his hands and opened the one from Aizu first. She smiled at what she read, pleased with the news.

"Sano and Megumi are expecting again," Midori said, knowing it would be hard for Kenshin to read when he was busy having his face tucked into her neck and shoulder. "Megumi predicts early spring. Sano says he hopes this one is a girl, and says to tell you that if Kenji tries to go after his daughter some day he will beat up our son."

Kenshin snorted at that. "Kenji made Sano's nose bleed last time, remember?"

"Sano writes that that was a fluke. He says it's Akio's fault; couldn't fight properly while changing his son's nappies. Megumi asks if they might visit again next summer."

Kenshin reached out and took that letter from her, leaving her free to open the next one.

"Yahiko, Kaoru, Tae and Tsubame say hello. Yahiko's doing well at the dojo; Kaoru says he's going to be taking over the advanced classes starting this winter. Yahiko put in a note saying that Kaoru's too busy flirting with someone named Shou to pay attention to lessons. I think this next part is Tae; it says Shou is a man recently transferred to the Tokyo police under Saito who Kaoru met and has apparently run into a few times. Poor bastard works under Saito; I wonder if he needs the added stress of Kaoru."

"That's not polite, _kabu_."

"I'm not a polite person, _ninjin_."

The letter from Tokyo was written in Aoshi Shinomori's hand; Midori read it all the way through before speaking.

"No backlash from my last appearance. Shinomori has heard nothing indicating that I am being hunted, or that anyone is aware of our children's exsistance aside from those we have told. He seems to think we should be safe as long as I refrain from causing any chaos. Misao-chan says hello, and wants us to visit again soon. She says two years is a year and a half too long."

Twice in the last six years Midori has paid late night visits to certain key figures within the Meiji government, just to remind them that she is around and that those under her protection are still off limits. No one has died - she has not killed anyone since Tani Jusanro - but the threat is clear. Her friends have not been bothered, nor has her family. No one alive is crazy or stupid enough to attack the family of Himura Battousai and Zetsumei Kurohyou.

Their lives are blessedly quiet, here in this house they had built near an out-of-the-way village several days hard walk from Kyoto. No more fighting for their lives or safety, no more city noise to set them both on edge. The old nightmares visit from time to time, but with the children and each other always near those times are few and far between. Between the money Midori had hoarded during her days as a hired killer and Enishi's chinese fortune, money is never a problem and their children wanted for nothing.

"Tou-chan! Ka-chan!"

"Eat! Eat!"

"Will you two get in here before I lose what's left of my mind?"

Kenshin laughed softly into Midori's skin, planting a lingering kiss that had her grinning when he pulled away.

"How many children do we have?" he asked her teasingly as they made their way towards the racket in the kitchen.

"Three."

"I heard that!"

It was the kind of peaceful life Midori never thought she would have.

It was bliss.

_**Owari**_


End file.
